Twelve Songs In Rivendel
by The Foxlady
Summary: FINISHED: Arien had come and gone, and the series come into a conclusion as the Peredhil lovers seems to part. The final night is here, and Elrond closes his eyes in Irmo's Lorien, ready to die.
1. From Arnor- Got You In My Sights

Twelve Songs In Rivendel.  
An Elrond Romance   
by The Fox.  
  
Chapter One  
From Arnor  
I've got you in my sights  
MidSpring  
  
- And be sure, Glorfindel, I'll have more than a few choice words about this when I'm finished with the   
stranger!-   
Glorfindel cringed, trying to keep pace with the irritated, fast steps of his angry Lord through the maze of polished wooden   
hallways in Rivendel, the House called the Last Homely One. Their steps, in the middle of the night were as soft and loudless   
like the most of the Elven, the beautiful race: but in those moments was when Glorfindel remembered a truth the most of their   
kind had forgotten centuries ago.   
That the dark haired, tall man walking ahead him was no elf, but one of the two Half Elves of the legend.   
Descendant of Earendil, he had too the blood of the honor of Hurin and the loyalty of Huor. And even if he had chosen to be   
counted between the First Born, and he had turned his back into his Human legacy, he was a different elf, some traits in him   
directly coming from his Edain parentage.   
And it wasn't the lesser of them his bad temper after being shaken awake in the middle of the night, to attend with his Healer   
Gift a stranger carried home by Glorfindel, who found him laying in the road next to the Hidden Valley.  
- You could have taken him into Bree, or any human camp nearby!- Elrond chastised, his brow frowning as he entered the   
circular, airy room where the pale stranger has been dried, cleaned and tucked in bed by Elladan and Elrohir, Elrond' sons,   
partners of Glorfindel in his adventure, and partners too, in sharing his father's grumpy mood.  
- He was burning in fever, my lord.-   
Elrond was going to snap another remark about what any Human can do with his fever, when he took a peek in his grinning   
sons, and then saw his daughter sitting there too in her sleeping robes. She carried a bunch of heavy, dark clothing- and a   
black shoe- in her delicate arms.  
- Arwen? What are you doing here?- he asked, looking back alternatively to Elladan and Elrohir, whom were slipping away as   
discreetly as an Elf can.  
- What's it looks, Father?- Arwen breathed, her best angelic smile on as she pursued a second shoe under the bed and then   
straightened, her waterfall of dark curls free around her.  
- Getting into mischief?- Elrond growled, as he stood defiantly in Glorfindel's cloak tail, who was trying to slip away unnoticed   
too.  
- Helping.- She stated proudly.  
- Please don't tell me you helped those with the stranger - Elrond said, a menacing gleam on his eyes.  
- Nay.-  
- Thanks Elbereth.-  
- I bathed and tucked him myself on my own.-  
- WHAT?-  
  
Only the urgent treatment the stranger needed, because in his forehead an egg it could have been cooked, delayed- but no   
prevented- the skinning and killing of the two young Lord Elves and their friend and guardian. As Arwen was shooed out with   
their brothers, Glorfindel lightened candles around the bed, into elven crystal lamps that took the light into soft prisms dancing   
in the wooden carved ceiling.   
Elrond stared at the stranger nested in the white bedding of the low mattress, wood in the shape of a tree enveloping in soft   
leaves the pillow. The stranger was a thin young man, tall but too slender, hair of an indescribable sunset color long and   
serpentine still wet and knotty but clean. His face was flushed by fever, features soft and regular with high bones and a   
straight nose, thin eyebrows and large eyes closed in pain and discomfort.   
- Where did you found him?- now the healer speaking, Elrond took his hand, cold and damp. The life beat was there still   
strong, but there it was something more than fever.   
- He was in unconscious near the road: I'm sure his horse dumped him, the stallion was near him and looked very contrite. We   
took it with us: it was raining and it was the coldest day we have had this spring. We couldn't have possibly left him there, My   
Lord: he would have died.-  
Elrond stared into the stranger, taking his other hand between his too.  
- Would he heal, my lord?-  
- I think so. Fetch me some cooling herbs and asea arannion and I'll take care of him. But I think is something more here   
than fever and cold.- Slowly, Elrond put a hand over the heart of the man, feeling it raise and rest, the heart there beating like   
a deer in chains.- What is this coldness soaking him? It is…-  
Nazgûl.  
Darkness.  
He had bee under the shadow and it weakened him.  
Elrond pushed harder, trying to feel the heart under his hand, to soothe it.  
Calling his power, he talked to the frantic heart, soft, magical voice vanishing chains, relinquishing the cold grip of darkness   
there.  
You're free.  
Live.  
The Nazgûl can't get to you here.  
Come back from the darkness.  
You're safe.  
By the powers I am gifted, Live!  
A distant sound almost broke his concentration, but he continued, his hand firm, his eyes staring into the flushed face.  
Come into the light, stop walking in the valley!  
The sound became a clear grinning, and a snort like stifled laughter.  
Elrong cursed his over-humorous, less-than-serious sons, and ended the incantation.  
Live! he ordered, feeling the life returning, the heart under his grip again free and calming.  
Laughs… and was that a catcall?  
Elrond was ready to yell to his sons over his shoulder when he saw Glorfindel with a funny face, eyebrows raised, trying to   
stifle his laughter.  
What the hell…  
His hand felt something weird.  
Under his hand, the chest of the stranger felt eeringly soft, filling the curve of his palm, silky under his fingers.  
Elrond stared. Breasts? Why this rider has a breast?  
Realization fell over the wisest elf of mid earth like a brick. And when he blushed in the most unbecoming way for one who   
had lived unaccountable years and knew even more, Glorfindel couldn't do anything but howl with laughter.  
- ELLADAN! ELROHIR!-  
  
- Father hasn't any humor those days.- Elladan rode away, still grinning, as Elrohir followed him in his own stallion, under the   
stars of spring. After the prank, it was safer to hide in Grandma's Lorien till his beloved sister was done saving their necks.   
Poor Glorfindel, who couldn't just run away. But at least he had the reward to see the face of his father when he knew he   
was groping an unconscious girl.  
- I would had none in his place. Too much years since Mom sailed West. For Elbereth, he is a lord, not a monk!-  
- Elladan!- Elrohir, more sensible and kind that his fiery twin spoke with scandalized tones.- Father has too much to do, and he   
loved our mother dearly.-  
- Yes. But sometimes I think he is far more Elven than me, Rohir. He is far too serious for his own good.-  
- I wonder if that poor lady is fine.- Elrohir smiled.  
- What? You fancy her?-  
- No!- Elrohir was too the shyest of the pair, and he tightened his scarf, hiding his blushing.- But I've never seen those hair   
color. And I wander why a lady was alone and hurt… the ones who abandoned her must be punished!-  
- Maybe she traveled alone, dummie.-  
- Isn't that sad?-  
- Isn't that interesting? – Elladan hurried his stallion, white by the moon as they ride side by side with the tumultuous Bruinen.-   
Her black horse was so pretty. I can't wait father to coax the story out of her.-  
- You're too curious.-  
- And you're too boring.-  
- I am not!-  
- You are.-  
- I am not!-  
- Yes, you are!-  
- Fool.-  
- Crybaby.-  
- Let's go see Estel. So we'll have something good to tell Arwen when we're back.-  
- Yes! Let's hunt down some orcs!- Elladan sprung into gallop, as Elrohir softly blew his black bangs.  
- That wasn't exactly what I mean, Ladan…-  
- Yaa-jayyy! Elbereth!-  
-…Whatever.-  
  
- You're in Rivendel, and safe. Please, do not strain yourself.-  
Elrond stood in the balcony, the long white curtains blowing in the breeze as the sun streaked from the fresh morning outside   
into the circular room, changing the browns to caramel and the bronze to gold. The morning air was fresh and new: and the   
mountains around the Last Homely House were shining with dew, the night just gone. The woman blinked, lost, barely lifting   
herself in her elbows. Her gaze, the palest, cloud like blue on black, eerie eyes, rested in the intricate carvings, the whirling   
white curtains, and finally in the tall man standing in the balcony. He was dressed in long and heavy deep red robes   
embroidered in gold gently moving in the breeze, a curtain of black hair falling around his head in tendrils too heavy for the   
wind to play with. A silver and gold circlet in his forehead spoke of royalty and pride: it was his gray eyes whom spoke of   
power. But his hands were gentle and white and his mouth was still kind.  
- Who are you?- the voice of the woman was tentative, and a bit raspy: but Elrond saw interest and something like hope in her   
voice.   
Her clothes and luggage had been searched through by Arwen, who said with no little interest she seemed to come from   
Gondor, or at least that was the symbol she wore in a court attire. So he presented himself in the uses of Gondor, ones he   
knew all to well.  
Softly, without pride but full of dignity, he said, staring to those strange pale blue eyes:  
- Elrond, son of Earendil, lord of Imladris.-  
- Arian, daughter of Aeglos, messenger of Lord Denethor of Gondor.- she said, voice even. Elrond blinked, and studied her   
with new interest. A woman, a messenger of such an important lord?   
Of a lord he, not only by Estel's sake but Arwen's too he had taken a keen interest long ago.  
But hospitality first. Elrond can have been raised servant and prisoner, but he had made Imladris the last homely house just by   
the force of his sheer hospitality, even shaken awake in the middle of night.   
And like a footnote, the one who said elves didn't sleep was delusional.  
- How are you feeling, my lady Arian?-  
- Fine. I have to thank you deeply, my lord: I could have died easily. And my sire would have taken in a very ill way if his   
letters got lost.-  
- Your things are secure, my lady. My sons and my lieutenant found you in the rain. Were you attacked?-  
- Just by the cold and a nasty fever, my lord. I'm sorry to have troubled you.-  
- My lady, I am glad to have been of help to you and your lord.-   
Glorfindel, who waited outside, stopped Arwen with a tray and the both kept their sharp keen ears still, rolling their eyes to the   
exchange of pleasantries.  
But Elrond was pleased, genuinely. The lady spoke with the casual grace of a trained noble, and she was very pleasant to look   
at. Coming from Gondor, from where his ardent, hotheaded foster son's roots came, it was a nice surprise.  
Maybe she could help at least to get to know what kind of man Denethor was. She was indebted, after all.  
- But you need some days to recover, lady Arien.- Elrond said, his years of ordering people around creeping into his voice.-   
You need rest.-  
- I'm afraid my messages are urgent, my lord. I must insist to leave today.-  
- Do you prefer your messages to arrive late, or none at all?-  
Arwen stifled a giggle, as Glorfindel rose his pale eyebrows.  
But the lady simply smiled.  
- Do you have a library?-  
- Of course I have.- Elrond looked at her, seeing her eyes shone suddenly.- Why?-  
- Let me peek in and I'll stay till tomorrow. Deal?-  
- Excuse me?-  
  
- And where you came from?-  
- Gondor.-  
- No, I mean… where are you coming back from now?-   
- Arnor. I had some messages to develop there near the old lands of Fornost.-  
- Didn't you see the Rangers?-  
- The Dunedain? No. I think they are still around Bree and the Shire. It has been such a long winter, isn't it?-  
Elrond had left to Arwen, whom had insisted, her elven curiosity piqued, to help the lady to dress after her adamant refusal to   
stay in bed. She had helped the rider lady into a Gondor attire, black and silver, long and thick robes over tight undershirt and   
pants. It were so different at her clothes that Arwen quickly struck a conversation with the stranger, wondering why in   
MidEarth could a lady put into such a tight undershirt, to then be briefed into an explanation about riding, gravity, and twin   
reasons, that left them both laughing. She had helped Arien to brush her long hair into submission, the curls at end of the   
straight hair rebelling and the waterfall carelessly thrown over her shoulder. Arwen was mid surprised when the hair she   
touched felt like real hair and not as sunlight: it was so shiny, so light. Arien was so foreign, so strange, even in her grace and   
walk, determined, not floating as Elves did, that the Undomiel was interested, not only in the messenger's lady's travels, but   
too in her appearance. And with no little amount of envy at the ease she spoke of faraway lands and freedom.   
- I've never seen hair colored like this. And your eyes are too very new to me.- Arwen said sincerely, as she sat in a wooden   
stool of Elrond's library, the messenger lady peeking into this and that book, her blue eyes shiny and alive. The library was a   
airy, fresh room smelling of leather and parchment, another oasis of peace in the calm house. They could see the Bruinen's   
waterfalls from there, endlessly emptying themselves under the blue sky, loudless and pure. Arien took a look outside, and then   
smiled back to Arwen, her eyes blue as a pale sapphire as she answered the brunette lady.  
- Are they ugly, Lady Arwen?- she asked merrily.  
- No! I mean…- Arwen looked caught, and then laughed, sudden sympathy for the lady of Eregion settling in. Something about   
her frankness and humor was refreshing, like a breeze from the Mid Est. – I've never seen hair colored like that. Estel has   
black hair as me, even if he came from Gondor too.-  
- Oh, so his name is Estel, isn't it?-  
Arwen broke into laugh again, slight blush.  
- Do you know any rhyme or ballad, lady Arien? It would be great to hear something from those distant lands tonight. We   
usually sit together at night to hear songs, but are mostly elven songs, and I'm afraid I've heard all already.- Arwen spoke to a   
chair, because the Arien was in all-fours searching through the lowest books in the bookshelves.  
- We'll see, my lady.- a grunt and then Arien was seen, kneeled behind a large stacks of books.- Lady Arwen, do you know   
where your father kept the lineage books?-  
- The lineage books? – Arwen blinked.- I haven't seen them since I was but a elfling. I'll ask my father…-  
A rush of wind moved the braids of Arwen, and Arien's free hair. They looked to the source of sound of soft footsteps   
coming, and Lord Elrond appeared, a soft smile, tall in the sharp, delicate door.   
- No need.- Elrond walked into the room, clearly having heard the exchange. – The red ones, there, at left… yes, those.-   
Elrond tilted his head when Arien lowered them carefully into the wooden desk of the library and started to pass the pages   
with a knowing smile.- But what in the MidEarth can interest you or your lord into the elven lineage, my lady?-  
- Oh, I'm sorry, Lord Elrond. Is a bit of a is a personal affair, just that. Let's say I have a history vein myself.- She smiled,   
taking a seat, and using parchment and ink to transcribe in quick writing some pages.- May I?-  
- Of course – Elrond said, touched at her interest in what even him thought a boring elven hobby.  
- Arien had said she could sing us something tonight!- Arwen smiled, her brunette beauty warm next to the red curtains of the   
library, the color Elrond favored, as her pale gold dress captured the afternoon sun. Elrond smiled gently, wandering what in   
the Gondor lady had captured so fast his wise daughter's sympathy.  
- But only if she feels up to. I'm still concerned about you health, my lady.-  
- I feel fine. You're an amazing healer, lord Elrond.-  
She lifted eyes from the parchment, and Elrond suddenly knew, staring at her blue, almost white eyes, that she knew about the   
Shadow.  
She knows.  
There was something in those eyes that spoke to Elrond of something buried in his childhood.  
A shudder.  
- Father?-  
Breaking from the reverie, Elrond looked back to her daughter, who was looking at him with elf amusement in her ancient-  
young eyes. Then she played with her necklace, just above her breast, and grinned.  
The memory of something called groping came into Elrond's head, and he felt tempted to strangle somebody. Joke, indeed.   
My own daughter is winding me up.  
If your mother hadn't sailed West long ago, I would have got mad trying to cope with yours and hers wicked sense of   
humor. And is Noldor's curse your brothers took after her, too.   
- Yes?-  
- Why are you red in the face?- Arwen was giggling.  
- What?- he turned around to a mirror, and then looked back to her daughter, who laughed quietly.- Very funny. Where are   
your brothers, Arwen Undomiel?-  
That sobered the elven princess quickly. Playing with a fold of her robe, she threw her head back and gave him her best smile.  
- It's getting dark. I wonder what color of robe would be the most appropriate tonight.-  
- Arwen…-  
- Purple.- was the contribution of the Gondor lady, still busy copying ancient text in the desk.  
- Do you think? Oh, thank you! I'll go to get a robe… it takes hours to fit one rightly…- Arwen slid into the hallways as only   
an elf can do, and Elrond let out a defeated, slightly irritated sigh. He turned to the lady of Gondor, wondering if she had got   
bored.  
She was stifling her laughter behind the book.  
Now I am the object of ridicule not only by my own breeding, but also of strangers.   
Great.   
  
The lady was dressed in the black of Gondor, just the silver tree in the front of her court robes lightening the heavier and more   
squarely cut that elven robes. It was the gala robes of a messenger, serious and noble, but slightly foreign in the thickness of   
the cloth, the high neck. Elrond knew her selection of clothing it had to do more with need that the desire to be elegant: after   
all, Arwen told him it was her one dry robe. But the black, so contrasting with the brilliant colored clothes of the elves at dinner   
looked beautiful anyway, made her blond-orange sunset colored hair shone as a crown, unmasking the femininity hidden by the   
standard men's robes.   
She laughed, and listened. She gave opinions surprisingly wise, the likes of opinions a person who's always on the road but too   
the likes cultivated ones would give. She was kind and smiling in the dinner, making a general good impression, but Elrond was   
still worried looking the soft purple under her eyes.  
How did she got herself under the shadow? Do the Lord of Gondor send women into the fight his people had fought   
centuries, could it be?  
The song she promised Arwen wasn't requested till they were comfortably seated in the Music room, where she had   
appraised the efforts of elves at ballads of immortal beauty. But at Arwen's request and insistence she got a harp, and smiling,   
she spoke in voice now soft as honey, but fresh as snow, as candlelight shone into hair of the same color.  
- I can't even dare to compete with Elven songs, my lady. I can't even hope to get to your level.- she said smiling. But I'll sing   
to you a song of the free lands of Eregion, where the air itself was young and the young men and women sung songs of love.   
This is a simple human song of love and need, under a blue sky, with all the fire only man know.-  
  
I've been meaning to tell you  
I've got this feeling that won't subside  
I look at you and I fantasize  
Darling tonight  
Now I've got you in my sights  
  
Despite her words of humility, her voice was truly magical. Silence descended like an incantation, as every other song sung   
that night looked pale and watered against the pure wine and honey of her clear voice. It was young and penetrating, a soft   
blow over any sleeping charcoal of passion they once had nested, to make it light and heat without pain. They heard in silence   
her song of passion and obsession and need from the free land of Lindon, where the Elves let themselves be whirled by the   
powerful wind of Eregion  
  
With these hungry eyes  
One look at you and I can't disguise  
I've got hungry eyes  
I feel the magic between you and I  
I want to hold you so hear me out  
I want to show you what love's all about  
Darling tonight  
Now I've got you in my sights  
  
It was soft, and needful, and Elrond wondered suddenly when has been the last time he had found his happiness like male. It   
has been so much time, but the need felt as good as new. The impulse of love and be love, alive through the centuries…  
  
With these hungry eyes  
Now did I take you by surprise  
I need you to see  
This love was meant to be   
  
Elrond watched Arien's graceful neck, as she sung of love and need in the slow song of the passionate elves of Lindon.  
Of a place lost one age ago.  
How can she know…?  
Arwen sighed, and the sound broke the silence of the last moan of harp. The fire only men know… Arwen twin elven dark   
star's eyes were shining. Elrond looked at her, a bit of worry. But Arien smiled at him, eyes pure and white into Elrond's deep   
dark ones.   
Arien, Maia of Sun… sunset in her hair as Sun drove into the last days, Laurelin last glow shining over the Promised   
Island…  
  
- Come to see us soon! Don't you dare to pass near and don't come to see me, do you hear!- Arwen said goodbye happily,   
some days after.   
- I promise, my lady Arwen!- she sung at the wind, fading quick as a dream in the dark green hills around Rivendel.  
And as the proud black stallion took away the messenger of pale eyes and fey hair, Elrond looked to her retreating profile from   
her balcony against the sun of spring, and wondered, waiting, his prophetic eyes trying to stare at sun without blinking.  
Now I've got you in my sights.  
  
  
© Hungry Eyes - Carmen Eric  
Dirty Dancing Soundtrack 


	2. From Moria- Tell Me Why

Twelve Songs In Rivendel.  
An Elrond Romance   
by The Fox.  
  
Chapter Two  
From Moria  
Tell Me Why.  
Summer  
  
Elrohir was mildly enraged at his harsh twin, whom had inconsiderately galloped down the Valley into home, leaving   
him behind with the entire luggage they carried back from their Dunedain trip. Including some horrible souvenirs Elladan   
insisted to spend his money on, including such a revealing hobbit female corset he was certain his father would strangle them   
with it before to agree to see Arwen put on. And surely her sister, always up to anything to get their father fire up, would   
wear it everyday.  
Elrohir could have speed his horse too, but why arrive early to your funeral? Elrond still must be reeling from the rider-with-  
breasts joke, only schemed by Elladan and Glorfindel, but one he would pay anyway for, too. He wasn't usually up to that   
those of jokes: shy and calm, Elrohir was the one to discover the unconscious rider had some… ah… interesting features. He   
still blushed, wondering if father did. Of course of not. He was the wisest elf in the Mid Earth, so it wasn't any chance of it.   
But he, his son, blushed everyday, something that was the bane of his existence, usually giving away Elladan and Glorfindel's   
jokes and making him pay for his mischievous sibling and teacher.  
Hmph.  
Sometimes he hated life.  
The summer afternoon was hot and sunny, the sky blue as his mother's eyes as the radiance shone in the many waterfalls   
crowning the Valley. At sight of one, Elrohir speed up, suddenly wanting nothing else like he wanted to bath his face in cold   
water and felt the icy dew of Misty mountains soothe is fevered forehead. But as he drove into the side of the road where the   
water plashing can be heard, he heard a voice too singing, and saw an enormous black. The horse was drinking from the tiny   
pool as his rider splashed like a boy his face with both hands under the water's white veil.  
The hair, reddish gold, in his bent back , like a wild mass, told him away.  
Told her away.  
Elrohir wandered what to do. Glorfindel never spoke of this way to meet a lady.  
- Oh, good afternoon, Milord!- she smiled, face and hair drenched.- Hot day, isn't it?-  
- Yes, it is.- Elrohir smiled back, comforted by her simple demeanor.  
- The water is deliciously fresh.- she pulled her hair back and gestured him to the tiny waterfall.- Please, I'm done already.-   
- Thank you.- for his surprise, Elrohir recognized her accent in elven language, almost flawless fluent sindarin. The accent was   
clearly from Gondor, but too had traces from the North. Elrohir could distinct it clearly, even if Elladan used t o say it was the   
silliest of the most silliest skills.  
- Are you coming to Rivendel, my Lady?- he asked, his hands being washed of dirt by the flowing water. The sun shone   
brilliantly in the pool, turning the falling drops into a rain of snowflakes.  
- Yes, I am, my lord. I have a letter for the Lord Elrond.- she said, jumping into her saddle with the practice of a not only   
trained but expert rider. Elrohir, half-surprised and quite at loss with her, blinked.  
- Could you wait for me? I am going home too. I am Elrohir, oldest son of Lord Elrond. And I'll escort you into Imladris, if you   
agree.-  
- I'm deeply grateful, my lord Elrohir.- her easy, quick smile made her strange blue eyes shine.- Last time I arrived your   
marvelous house I was unconscious, so I'm afraid I don't know the quicker way to get into the Valley. Or let's say the safest,   
since the quicker one is to jump already.-  
Elrohir sputtered, and then laughed. – I'm afraid that, as quick and spectacular your arriving would be, you'll be beyond even   
my father's healing powers.-  
- And my letters would get dirty, and that's the most important part.- she was laughing good-naturedly as Elrohir saddled too   
into his weary horse and leaded her into the descending folds of woods under the road.  
- Where are you coming from, my Lady?-  
- Moria.-  
- Really?- Elrohir's curiosity peaked.- How? And how is it?-  
- By horse. And is beautiful beyond description.-  
- Are you kidding me?-  
  
- It's good to see you again, alive and well, my Lady Arien.- Elrond was enjoying the fresh a bower delicately made of silver   
carvings and deep green vines of violet foam-like flowers hanging from and giving the fresh smell of lime provided, confortably   
seated in the brilliantly colored garden, the summer covering Rivendel with a carpet of brand colored flowers, escalating the   
roofs, bathing the hills around the Valley.  
- I am honored to have the blessing to come here for a second time, my lord.- she said, bowing with a hand over her heart,   
Gondor-like style. Elrond smiled, pleased for hearing her perfect noble speech again.- And I thank you again for the help   
bestowed over me last time, in my name and my mission.-   
- It was a pleasure.- Elrond looked at her hand over her chest, the curve of her hand suggesting a curve hidden by the dark,   
hard-cut black summer Gondor garb, and suddenly choked.  
- Oh, a pleasure, indeed.- Glorfindel chorused, wicked amusement in his merry eyes.  
I'll choke you with that stupid braid of yours, lieutenant.  
- I'll hope you'll be staying long, my Lady?- Elladan said with his best innocent smile, even if the Rivendel resident Elves knew   
better. It wasn't she wasn't nice enough, but the chance to wind up the stern lord of Imladris was too good to let it pass. The   
more days with her there, the merrier.  
- I'm afraid I'm on duty. I have a letter from the Lord from Isengard, Lord Elladan.- she said gently, taking a roll of parchment   
protected in white leather from her waist. It was sealed with a symbol that made Elrond's eyes narrow in interest: the white   
hand. Softly, she kneeled and offered him the roll. Elrond took it, a bit bewildered.  
- I thought you said to be a messenger of Gondor, my lady, not from Saruman the White.-  
- I am such a wanderer I usually deliver letters for the whole West, my Lord. And Lord Denethor himself recommended my   
services to the White Istari of Isengard.-  
Elrond would have asked more, but his questions were stopped when Arwen swiftly entered the bower, smiling and happy, her   
long green summer dress floating in the wind. She embraced her brothers, and smiled to her father and Glorfindel, to then turn   
to the messenger lady with a warm welcome.  
- Arien! I'm so happy you had lived up your promise! I was wondering when the wind would take you here again. Have you   
time to spend with us?-  
- Only a few days. My duties call me, and my lords wait for my letters anxiously.- she said, a quick glance that surprised   
Elrond.   
Did she know what the White Magician asked of him…?  
Elrond, with a nod, took the parchment to his study, leaving the lady with his daughter and sons, in the bower.   
Under the bright sun of summer, he suddenly felt a chill.  
  
- You really are worthy of the name of the second Luthien, my lady.-   
Arwen stopped dancing, where the summer wind had accompanied her into sunset. Arian was there, leaning in a terrace,   
comfortably refreshed, and wearing a silk white tunic over green pants that ended a bit short of her ankles, showing her bare   
feet. The Undomiel smiled, and Arien's breath caught: the lady of Rivendel was too much, star of sunset there, the red   
summer sun turning her into a statue of honey. And Arwen smiled back, because Arien was the sunset itself, golden hair   
redder by the dying sunlight, as she leaned in the wooden rail, her face calm into her contemplation.  
- Thanks, lady Arien. But you have the beauty of sun itself.-  
If Arien blushed, it was hard to say at that light: but she smiled like receiving a nice and not necessarily true compliment. She   
leaned into the rail, her hair almost brushing the bushes of roses lining the terrace, and said with a secretive voice:  
- How quick is your father to make his mind about things? I stayed too long in Moria. And I have still to develop Lorien and   
King Thranduil's letters.-  
- I suppose he will take his time.- she smiled.- Depending the seriousness of the situation.-  
- Well, tell me, how long he takes to decide what robe to wear each day?-  
- Ages. Longer than me.- Arwen laughed, seeing how the messenger Lady buried her head in her arms with a mouthed damn.   
– It is very urgent?-  
- Quite so.- Arien looked up, seeing the first stars grace the summer night sky.  
- Do you get me a new song, Lady Arien?-  
- Of course, my lady Arwen. If something I have always the time to collect, is songs from everyway I go.- she smiled.- But I   
would like to ask one of you: I've only heard fragments of the ballad of Beren and Luthien through the years, but I've never   
hear it complete in an Elven voice. Would you…?-  
- I can ask my Finvanna to sing it. He…-  
- I would prefer to hear it in the Tinuviel's own voice, if possible.- Arien said promptly, a gleam on her eyes.  
- But Luthien…- Arwen blushed, and then looked back to her shyly.- I'm not worthy of that compliment, my Lady Arien.   
Luthien was the mother of Dior Eluchil, who was the father of my grandmother Elwing TheWhite. But I can't be but a pale   
reflection of her legendary shine.- slowly, Arwen smiled, her manner growing somber. Where childish joy had shone, now it   
was a deeper, serious beauty.- I am just the Sunset Star, not the Noon one she was…-  
- Please?-  
Arwen surrounded the balcony, her hair moving behind her like a living night curtain, till the stone steps that lead into the ample   
terrace. Maple trees around still conserved the reddish hue in his leaves, against the sky now of deep darkening blue. And   
Arian's soft, childish plea made the smile came back into her impossible beautiful features, again soft and changing as the sky.   
- Only if you call me Arwen, my lady.-  
- But I am Arian, so.-  
- So.-  
- Deal.-  
- What?-  
  
- So Luthien chose a mortal life, and her sons have the chance to choose?- Arien was still deeply interested, and the two   
young ladies walked, arm in arm to the Main Hall, where the places had been put for them, side by side, Arien just front of   
Elladan as Elrohir and Arwen flanked Elrond at the head of the table. – But why? How can any Elf to forsake eternal twilight   
for the cruel gift given to the Men?-  
Arwen stared at Arien, as they sat.  
- Maybe love is greater than the promise of eternal life, Arien.- she said, wise eyes in Arien, who shrugged, taking her seat   
after her.  
- That, my wise lady, is the one reason I can think of worthy enough.-  
- Indeed it is.- Elrohir won a brilliant smile from his sister at that.  
- I saw your stallion in the ---, my Lady Arien. He is quite a magnificent animal. A Rohan one, is it?- Elladan interrupted,   
already picking some bread under the severe eyes of Arwen, because the Lord of the house hasn't came yet.  
- Yes, he is. His name is Elfaroth.- Arien smiled, discussion forgotten.- You're an expert, I see, my Lord Elladan. He took me   
as fast as I need. He was gifted to me by the Lord of Isengard himself, to help me in my travels.-  
- Generous gift, I am sure.- Elrond's tone made some heads turn when he sat, slowly into the head of the table, and the   
servants hurried with the food.- Is everything at your please, lady Arien?-  
- I could not ask for a better treatment, my lord: I've spent lovely hours in the company of the Lady Arwen. -  
Elrond's silence was a bit shocking: he usually was the soul of hospitality, the heart of gentleness. But now his brow was   
frowned, his mouth a tense line. And even as Arien ate nonchalantly, the eyes of the Lord of Rivendel were on her with an   
expression akin irritation.  
Arwen, Elladan and Elrohir did their best to hide their surprise and live up the atmosphera, but everybody breathed in relief   
when the dinner was over. The one person apparently oblivious to the Lord's bad mood was Arien itself, who took long   
enough sipping her cup of plum wine, her lips turning to the soft reddish orange of the liquor.  
- Lady Arien, please come into my study.- Elrond's tone wasn't a plea clearly. But Arien nodded pleasantly, and sauntered   
behind Elrond's taut back. Arwen and her brothers looked in alarm: in their father physical idiom, that walk translated between   
" royally miffed" and " homicidally pissed off". But Arien winked at them, at Elrond's back, and mouthed:  
" Didn't took that long, isn't great?"  
Arwen giggled, as Elrohir shook her head in sympathy. In fact, anyone going under Elrond's endless lectures when angry   
counted with their utmost sympathy.  
  
- I suppose you aren't really a Gondor's messenger, after all, Lady Arien.-  
Elrond closed the door and stood behind his desk, staring at Arien with his eyes going colder by seconds. Arien stood, with not   
too much pride but full of dignity against the open window, from where a kind summer breeze moved tendrils escaped from   
her hair in a bun.  
- I'm sad to tell the wisest elf of Mid Earth that's is wrong, but I am a messenger of Gondor, my lord. –  
- This letter comes from Isengard, that even being Gondor's nominal jurisdiction is inhabited for another power.-  
- I know.-  
- So, you carry too Saruman the white's letters?-  
- I haven't denied that, my lord. But I am not his slave, nor of Gondor.-  
- Why he sent you, Lady Arien, with such a dreadful letter?-  
- Because he surely thought the wise Lord Elrond wouldn't never took his anger into the messenger of bad news, my lord.-  
Elrond faltered, stared, and let himself fall into his seat with a groan. When he again peeked through his fingers covering his   
eyes, Arien was grinning.  
- Don't laugh, messenger. This is NOT a laughing matter.- Elrond smiled weakly.- My apologies. I should have know better   
that to believe you are aware of the contents of this letter. I'm afraid my so called " wisdom" deserted me today.-  
- Oh, no, my Lord. I am aware of the contains of this letter, as I am of the Lorien's, Black Forest's and Fornost's I have yet   
to develop.-  
Elrond rose with his eyes cold again.  
- You know?-  
- Of course. I personally searched for the information that letter contains.-  
Elrond was speechless. He paled, and then walked around the desk, to stare directly into Arien's eyes, which didn't flinch   
under the lord's intense gaze.  
- You are not part of the White Council. How much do you know nonetheless?-  
- Enough. –  
- How many time have you been the errand boy of Saruman the White?-  
- I think you can call me the " errand boy" of Saruman, even if I prefer the title of messenger, thank you.-   
Elrond faltered again, and than chuckled without humor.  
- And the Lord of Gondor let you serve two masters?-  
Arien's eyes shone, at Elrond's slight contempt, but spoke calmly, deliberately.  
- I serve one purpose only: the welfare of the Mid Earth, and my own, in that order, Milord.-   
Elrond rose eyebrows at the belligerence in her voice. He leaned in his elbows on the desk, taking seat again, and stared at the   
lady with his wise, calm, sad eyes of immortal.  
- And what can have you seen, Lady Arien, that justifies the wish of Saruman the White to seat ourselves waiting as the   
darkness in Dol Guldor grows into black again?- he didn't shout, didn't yelled: but his tone was strong and hard as the steel of   
a sword being drawn. And Arien, for the first time looked away, those eyes going right into her brain through the windows her   
eyes were.  
- I've seen the darkness growing, my Lord, and I have informed of it. But why Saruman the White, White Lord Of Isengard   
and High Istari wishes for the Three to wait, I don't know.-  
Elrond looked at her, his gaze never wavering. It was a river of silver bathing her, enveloping her: but when she suddenly   
answered and glared back, the river found a blue gem: unbreakable, delicate, translucent, but with a deepness of darkness and   
light like Elrond haven't seen through the seasons since a very long time.  
Where I've seen those eyes…?  
- Saruman asked for a response.- Elrond said finally.- Tell him the day of Mid winter, the Darkness would be chased and   
banished from Dol Guldor, with or without him. It is clear?- his voice resounded, dangerous, angry: the ring of sapphire in his   
hand shone for a second, blue as the night outside when the air was clearer that anywhere in the Mid Earth.  
Arien, suddenly, smiled.  
- Note taken, my lord. And now, do you want to send any message to Lorien, Fornost or the Forest? I can do you a discount.-  
Elrond blinked. And then, laughed, loud.  
- And how much is going to cost me to develop the same message to Lorien and to Mithrandir, if my assumptions of who are   
you searching are well placed?-  
- Indeed are well placed, my lord, and I would thank you any insight about where the Gray Pilgrim can be. I have spent more   
time over my horse chasing him north and south the West I've spent in any other mission.- she sighed comically.- But I'll be   
glad to repeat your words to the Golden Forest's Lady, and to Mithrandir and the King Thranduil, with only one thing to ask   
for.- she smiled charmingly, and Elrond wondered how much it would cost it to him: the messenger smiled like a cat who sees   
cream and tries to be nonchalant about it.  
- Yes?-  
- Can I use your library?-  
Quite obsessed, aren't we?  
  
- Do you have any new song for us, Lady Arien?-   
Arwen smiled: the anger of her father seemed to have melted, and Arien was still in one piece. The lady, still in her white tunic   
smiled, and nodded, as they enjoyed the summer night not in the Music Hall, but outside in the bower.  
- Yes, my lady, I have one. I heard it in the great halls of Moria, where I was attended and welcomed: the Lord of Moria,   
Balin, gave me fair welcome upon receiving his letter from my lord.-  
- The Dwarves can sing?- Elladan looked incredulous.  
- Yes. And there I heard this love song.-  
- To what? They didn't have women, or didn't they?- Elladan had his eyebrows so high that almost mixed with his hairline.  
- Yes, they have, Lord Elladan, and they're beautiful: I've seen them with my own eyes.- said Arien matter of factly. Elrond   
gave Elladan a Look, as they called it, to shut him up, but it was unnecessary, because Arien had started to sing and her voice   
had the magical gift to make every sound vanish inside her voice. The rhythm of the harp was slow and repeated absorbent in   
the slow strength as she sung with only one easy note, the tone deep and soft. It was a soothing song.  
She sung.  
And Elrond, lonely lord of Rivendel, smiled.   
  
Feel no shame about shape  
Weather changes their phrase  
Even mother will show you another way  
So put your helmets on  
Nothing will be wrong  
There's no blame, there's no fame, it's up to you  
The first words should be finded  
Whatever hold you back  
I can, I can get it off  
Tell me what, tell me what, tell me what you want  
I don't know why, don't know why, don't know why are you afraid  
Tell me what, tell me what, tell me what you say  
I don't know why don't know why, don't know why it's too late  
Have no fear for real  
It's just a turning wheel  
Once you start up there's no other way  
Don't put your eyes on boots  
Take a step forward your roots  
There's no aid there's no trade, it belongs to you  
Before you miss something given  
You should know what's the truth  
I can I can make it out.  
  
- Would you come back before to return Isengard?- Elrond spoke softly the next morning, as he stood in his balcony, watching   
the messenger lady leaving with the sunrise in silence, no servants, nobody standing there. It was still fresh mist in the valley,   
but the white sky was getting bluer by seconds. It would be a beautiful summer day, good to ride and laugh.  
- It depends how quickly I found Mithrandir, my lord.- she sighed, as if she hasn't any illusion than the Gray Pilgrim would be   
found easily.  
- He is usually here for the Mid Summer Night, Arien.-  
Arien smile lit.  
- Isn't that an elven custom?-  
- I would be surprised at your knowledge, woman of Gondor, didn't I saw how deeply are you interested in elves' matters, or   
at least that the books on my library's desk says.-  
- Sorry about the mess. I grew interested and interested and then I couldn't remember what book was originally in what   
place.-  
Elrond was smiling as she jumped to the saddle. She looked pale at the morning sun, but her hair was a shining waterfall, free   
in her back over white silk, the horse black as ebony bathed in sunlight.  
- Well, you can use my library again when you come back.-  
- You are really the smarter elf in Mid Earth, my Lord.- she laughed, and waving goodbye, went into a gallop. And Elrond   
stood there watching her disappear through the stone road into the woods, the hills green and white under the just born sun.   
Out of the Valley.  
Where war is waiting and darkness is falling quickly over the Third Age.  
Out of the Valley where the world was as gentle as Elrond was, she walked, into places where the darkness had sharp and   
cruel things in her belly.  
Take care, Arien of Gondor, sunset lady. Ride safely and then ride back.  
I'll see you in under the summer stars.  
And I'll make you tell me what are you searching for.  
And you'll tell me why.  
  
Tell Me Why  
© Berserk Opening Song 


	3. From Fornost- Sweet Child Of Mine

Twelve Songs In Rivendel.  
An Elrond Romance   
by The Fox.  
  
Chapter Three  
From Fornost   
Sweet Child Of Mine.  
MidSummer Night  
  
The air itself looked more translucent, more brilliant under the stars over Rivendel that night, the sky over them   
immense and perfect in a blanket of thousands of stars, piercingly silver and clear. The black sapphire blanket shone reflected   
in the streams surrounding the valley, like little silver candles flickering just slightly. And thousands of tiny elven magic lamps   
shone hanging like colored tiny stars in the trees, the buildings, the roof of the house, and too in the fresh garden where the   
people talked and enjoyed themselves in Elrond's hospitality, admiringly appraising the magical appearance of the Last Homely   
house. The light was silver and soft: the music, sweet arpeggios in worship to Elbereth.  
Elrond itself was there in the bower, a royal blue tunic enveloping his lean form, embroidered with a line of waves and stars   
across the chest. He wore the circlet of Imladris, and the blue ring rested in his finger, his shine alive like another star. He   
wore his hair cascading down his shoulders in shades of midnight, and smiled, talking to the ancient man in gray in his right,   
whose long gray hair was sparkled by the stars into silver. The old man looked strong: strong and powerful as the storm, but as   
gentle as the summer breeze gracing the fair valley. He smiled, even over worried, flashing eyes, and his smile looked enough   
to give assurance to the scared ones around Mid Earth. And even if his deep, grumpy words contrasted with the clear, soft   
tones of the Lord Of Rivendel, they looked as much at ease as two old friends in a meeting very well waited. And as they   
smiled over silver goblets full of a sunny wine, they looked strangely alike.  
At Elrond's side sat Arwen, her ample and delicate red gown like the petals of a summer rose opening around her   
unforgettable eyes. She listened at Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindel and Estel's conversation, which had forsaken their serious talk   
about the darkening of the wild lands for her sake, and were playing like children and laughing like it wasn't any worry in the   
world. And in fact it was impossible to worry or to be sad under that shining blue sky, under those elven stars, with the Fair   
people moving under the trees. It was almost like the air itself was one from a happier age that they could conjure into life by   
their sole wish for mortal eyes to contemplate.  
The music was soft and enveloping: it a lost poem of love and peace and goodbye, and Elrond watched with shadowed   
eyes his daughter dancing in the arms of his foster son. The young human looked noble, almost Elfish in his white attire, his   
black untamable hair waving as he spoke animatedly, the long white arms of Arwen lifted as her tiny white hands rested in the   
darker, bigger, but so sure hands of the Ranger.  
- Elrond…?-  
- Excuse me, Mithrandir. What were you saying?-  
- So this girl wasn't supposed to come back with the answers? We need to know what Galadriel and Thranduil would say.- he   
sighed tiredly, but smiled.- I can't help but feel relieved. Even against the judgement of Saruman, the highest Istari of my   
order, I'm happy to see the Mid Earth finally take action against the darkness. All my instincts had been yelling at me for too   
long.-  
- My patience was wearing thin too, my old friend, and you know what it happens when I receive direct orders from   
somebody, even if he is the head of the White Council. –  
- Your temper had been an endless fount of amusement for me through the years, as much as you have been an invaluable   
help.-  
- If are you trying to trick me into welcome twelve dwarves and a… hobbit again, you're destined to failure.-  
Mithrandir laughed.  
- Sharp are the eyes of Elven, I have to concede.-  
Elrond chuckled, and then watched the moon.  
- Are you worried about this messenger lady?- in Mithrandir's tone it was awaiting a world of teasing, and Elrond looked at   
him back sternly, trying and failing to make that blue eyes stop dancing merrily.  
- Sharp are the magician's tongues.-  
- They are, indeed.- Mithrandir shrugged, and leaned to Elrond, his face holding mischief.- Tell me about her. How is she?   
Gondor women are very strict about themselves. I can't believe Denethor is using one of them as a messenger. He has   
thousands of willing soldiers and riders. It must be quite an interesting story and a very interesting lady, too.-  
- Well, she is…- Elrond thought, and then a tiny smile appeared.- I can't count well the years of men, but she is quite young,   
younger than Estel. She has flame colored hair, almost golden long to her thighs with whirling curls in the ends, and blue eyes   
as pale as the water. She is taller than Arwen, almost my height, and has the body of a rider. – his tone softened, after the   
cold recount of her appearance.- She has been very well educated: she was perfectly comfortable in our etiquette, as she   
seems to be between the dwarves, or Lorien, or anywhere she goes. Its like she could fit just anywhere. I suppose she had   
fluently in all that languages: she speaks Sindarin as one of us, and she nodded to the use of Quenya words. It's a pleasure to   
talk to her. And she is really interested in elves. - Elrond then came to a stop, and smiled finally.- But that's not all about her.   
She looked young and carefree as a little girl, always smiling and joking, and then can be calm and serious. There is   
nonchalance, a light of joy in her that is refreshing and marvelous to see. But I see a deep inner restlessness too, I can see   
something she searches for, something bothering her inside, but I can't name it still. She is bold and has one of the sharper   
tongues I've heard, more shocking for her otherwise impeccable manners. But she surprises me, and that is something I've   
missed so much. Since Isildur and Ereinion…- his voice trailed off. – I hope she it's safe. This age is dark enough, eager to   
choke joy and freedom as did choked them.-  
-Your daughter Arwen spoke very highly of her. But she doesn't looked as worried as you.- he added.  
- Yes, but she has her mind elsewhere tonight.- Elrond ended sourly, watching intently the human prince.- Why has it has to be   
so cute, the little devil?-  
- Excuse me?- Mithrandir exploded in a fit of roaring laughter.  
- Nothing.-  
Mithrandir lifted his eyes to the sky, and said matter-of-factly.  
- She is proud in her walk, and wears her hair up when she dresses in elven attire, isn't it?.-  
- How do you know it?-  
- Because there is coming the lady, right to us.- Mithrandir grinned. Elrond looked into the garden and saw her, quick and   
determined steps between the floating wandering the Elves did, a long, straight blue robe caressing the grass as she walked to   
the steps in front of the bower. She bowed, then straightened herself looking right into Elrond's eyes with a shining smile.  
- Good evening, my lord Elrond. My lord Mithrandir, I'm so glad to have meet you at end.-   
- And I am pleased you managed to arrive tonight, Arien.- said Elrond warmly.- Please, enjoy yourself.-  
- Couldn't do less in such a fair company.- she bowed again.- But I'm here as an announcer, my lord. I hurried though the   
road to Rivendel to tell you the Lord and Lady of Lorien and the Lord of the Mirkwood are arriving. –  
- They are…? - Elrond stood, and quickly walked down the steps, smile in his face.- Those are wonderful news. Nothing could   
make this night shone brighter, so.-   
And it was true: exclamations of joy and songs broke free, and the road to Rivendel lightened as a moon had born there, as the   
riding company of Lorien and the Mirkwood came together into beautiful confusion. There was Lord Celeborn, tall and   
majestic, silver hair in the wind and a star in his forehead, wise and powerful, his sharp eyes bright in happiness, his mantle of   
dark gold. And then the Lady Galadriel, white as milk, a white star in her finger, lace light as moonlight around her form, tall as   
a queen, and nonetheless woman when she and Arwen embraced, morning embracing sunset. With them came Haldir, the   
guard of Lorien, and numerous Sindar elves, singing and laughing. King Thranduil and his sons came behind, the King powerful   
and old, his white streaked dark hair lending him wisdom. But his dark eyes were alive and young, the hand still strong in the   
reins as he dismounted with the ease of a younger man and bowed to the Lord of Imladris, green-forest robes embroidered in   
black and gold suiting the emerald crown of Mirkwood well. His three sons, young and beautiful bowed too, their young faces   
showing the amazement of joy of finally meeting the Elven house mentioned in so many songs, and his Lord. It was a happy   
reunion of family kept apart too many years, and the starts shone brightly that night over Rivendel as the Elves thanked   
Elbereth for their joy.  
  
- And it seems the elves forgot hospitality a bit when they get together.- Mithrandir chuckled as she stood next to Arien,   
forgotten near the bower.  
- Oh, no, Lord Mithrandir. To see them together is the greatest present I could receive. They're like something I've dreamed.   
But so many fair people with legendary names here right in front of my eyes are too marvelous to be described. It was a   
scene I've would double my travels just to get a glimpse of.-  
- You are, just as Elrond said, very courteous.- Mithrandir shrugged.- But I'm not a Lord, and you are a traveler that need   
more sustenance than a fair view can give. Come with me, Arien of Gondor, and tell me why had you chased me around   
North like a cat the mouse.-  
Arien followed Mithrandir into the house, here eyes still trailing into the Elves. And as they entered the Hall, they saw a dark   
haired man there, sitting near the fireplace where the flames danced, alone.  
- Hm. Good to see you able to lend attention to old friends, Ranger.- Mithrandir said with a chuckle.- Would you decline a cup   
of wine and some of delicate Rivendel concoctions? Since you arrived, you hadn't done anything but to ignore me to pay   
attention into more nice matters.-  
The man stood, and smiled. It was a tall, well muscled man, but agile and feline, dressed in white, curls of the purest black   
framing a very manly, very handsome face with eyes like pools of undiluted silver. He nodded, and his gaze stopped in Arien,   
before to bow.  
- Oh, I'm getting old, it seems. Ranger, this is Arien of Gondor, messenger of Lord Denethor. Arien, this men is a Ranger of   
the North.-  
- Nice to meet you, Estel.- said Arien, composed, bowing and then offering her hand in Gondor fashion. The ranger, a second   
taken aback, took it. Mithrandir's eyes shone, and then his face lit with a smile, and took one arm from each.  
- Come with me, my friends. Let's eat something, three strangers in the middle of those elves. They would take long before to   
remember us, I'm afraid.-  
  
-… Lord Faramir is a nice prince, but Captain Boromir has a royal temper... I've met them less than I would like. Lord   
Denethor rarely lets me stay more than a month in home. I used to live in Osgiliath, but sadly it had got deserted though the   
years. We have lost to many men through the years, and we have few children.-  
- Never thought of settle back and, well, contribute?- Mithrandir's chuckle made Arien laugh.  
- Gandalf!- Estel looked a bit scandalized, but Arien spoke with mirth in her face.  
- I would love to. But it's hard to develop a relationship since I never stay for a long while anywhere.-  
- Story of my life.- Gandalf laughed in mock sadness.- Bur, dear Arien, surely you could quit traveling in order to find   
happiness.-  
- I have a duty to live up, my Lord. And I love to travel and met interesting places and persons.- she said gently, but averted   
her eyes. Estel and Gandalf shared a look, but they didn't have chance of say anything else. They heard soft footsteps, and in   
the twin doors of the Hall of Fire where they sat, wine in hand, the fireplace casting warm shadows and staying in Arien's hair   
appeared the Lord of the House, followed by his fair daughter, blue and red.  
- We were wondering where you were, Mithrandir.- Elrond said with a sigh. – I almost thought you had left.-  
- We were only enjoying a bit of Elves-free time, for a while.- Gandalf said, looking a bit annoyed at the interruption. – Estel   
and me where just meeting this nice young lady you forgot to introduce to us.-  
Elrond had the grace to look embarrassed.  
- I'm sorry, Arien. I forgot. Now, would you come? The feast is going to start.-  
- Coming.- Gandalf stood, leaving his goblet with a sigh.- Arien, would you let this old man escort you to the table?-  
- With the utmost pleasure, my lord Gandalf.-  
- Arien, I'm not a Lord. Call me that again and I'll turn you into a frog.-  
As Estel escorted Arwen, Elrond followed, hearing them laugh. And suddenly, he felt unease. What was that feeling in his   
heart? It was fear?  
  
- Arien always have beautiful songs for me.- Arwen smiled later, sitting with Thranduil's sons, the guard of Lorien, Haldir,   
Finvanna, Rivendel's musician, Estel and Glorfindel, and her brothers outside, after a very joyful feast. They have been singing   
and playing, the sky over them in her deeper midnight getting even bluer, and the radiance from the house making long golden   
hues dance in the grass. From the bower they sat, they could saw Arien leaning over the railing of terrace, talking to   
Mithrandir very seriously, and then nodding.  
- But she seemed too busy. Mithrandir hadn't left her loose for the entire night.- Estel said with a smile.- She carried important   
news from Gondor, news I would like to hear.-  
- Maybe the old man is smitten.- Elladan, with a impish grin shook his head.  
- Elladan! Shame on you!-  
- Why?-  
- The Istaris do not… well, you know!- Elrohir was truly scandalized.  
- So there's no little Istaris? – the younger son of Thranduil, Legolas, opened wide eyes.  
- Come one, Elrohir, how do you think they grew, like mushrooms?-  
- Love is a very splendid thing.- Estel sentenced.  
- But isn't too old for her?-  
- Old? Yes, just like you are too old for her, Elrohir. What are a few centuries for love?-  
- Elladan, shut up.-  
- * giggle* sorry, sister.- Elladan still laughed under Estel's glare as Arwen went to collect Arien, right in the moment when   
Elrond came from the house to join the conversation between the magician and the messenger.  
- No, I can't consent it.- she shook her curls as Elrond suggested to Mithrandir and Arien to go inside with the rest of the   
elves.- No, father, I have to disagree. We invited them to a party and all they have done is talk about duty. We're being very   
un-hospitalary.-   
- Please don't worry, Lady Arwen.-  
Mithrandir nodded, even after Arien's denial.- Yes, this old man had been quite rude, but this lady had seen and heard so many   
things I'm afraid her conversation was so attractive to me like a mine to a dwarf. My apologies, and please enjoy yourself in   
what it rest of the party. We can keep discussing this tomorrow morning.-  
- Of course, Mithrandir.- Arien nodded, even being dragged away for a laughing Arwen, who had took her hand.   
- Great. My daughter stole Saruman's voice from us to make it sing love songs.- Elrond added sourly, watching the red and   
blue hues disappear into the bower.  
- You sounds aggravated.- said Mithrandir, smirking.  
- Oh, quit with that.-  
- Are Galadriel and Thranduil agreeing with you about attacking in the winter?-  
- Yes, they are. We'll be forging plans with Thranduil tomorrow. And I hope she could represent Saruman between us,   
because I would not wait one more day.-  
- Always the impatient, Peredhil.-  
- That's something I thank to my mixed heritage. Not so hotheaded as the men, nor so lazy as elves. And about impatience,   
you aren't one to talk.-  
- I know.- Gandalf smiled, apologetic.- Well. Let's plan how to get that Nazgul out of Thranduil's forest.-  
  
He's got a smile that it seems to me  
Reminds me of childhood memories  
Where everything  
Was as fresh as the bright blue sky  
  
- Her voice is amazing.- said Gandalf with a smile. – But I've never had listened that song before. It is elvish, isn't it?-   
- Yes.- Elrond smiled, still in the terrace, hearing the song. A whisper and a sparkle: Celeborn had joined them, his silver hair   
covering a still young face where old eyes that had seen the ages pass through like old dreams still shone alive and sweet.   
Celeborn was peaceful and calm, deep knowledge that made him Elrohir's beloved teacher, as Elladan preferred Glorfindel's   
battle skills better, and Galadriel was Arwen's model.   
- That song… I haven't heard it in ages, since the fall of the fair Doriath.- he said, eyes closed into happy memories. And   
Elrond, looking at him, suddenly remembered. He had heard it too, long, long time ago, in his childhood memories where   
everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky…  
  
Now and then when I see his face  
He takes me away to that special place  
  
Yes, she did… though Elrond in shock. It wasn't only her voice or the song: everything in her took him to a place he only   
knew in his very first memories. A place hidden between silver hays…  
A voice…  
Why she reminds me my father so much…?  
  
And if I stared too long  
I'd probably break down and cry  
  
Elrond touched his own cheeks.  
Why this melancholy of lost things? Why this… sadness…?  
Why I can't remember…? Why is she so familiar…?  
- I've heard that voice before.- said Celeborn. But I don't remember… must have been so young.-  
Elrond stared. Celeborn, young?  
  
Oh, Sweet child of mine  
Oh, Sweet love of mine  
  
The sounds of lauds and flutes called everybody into the bower soon after: Galadriel smiled and took her husband's   
hand as Finvanna, Haldir and other elves started one of her favorite melodies, Goodbye to Our Fortune. It was slow, and   
dreamy, but with a deep, hypnotic rhythm that made one of the most loved songs of Noldor, songs they had sung and danced in   
Doriath, in Gondolin, in Nargothrond, in Laurenlindonan, in Lindon and Eregion. And in the Eressea's grass too at the Light Of   
The Trees, because it was a song older that stars, composed like a soft whine and a hope for Miriel herself in the time of her   
sadness.  
Now, as Luthien had danced it for Beren, Arwen danced, her hand in Estel's, floating in the grass. Galadriel offered her hand   
to Celeborn, who joined to the dance, making her float in his arms with a knowledge that came from deja vu of thousand years   
ago. It was the slow lament of Elves, who danced it with their hearts…  
We are waning.  
And there's still so much to do…  
The youngest song of Thranduil danced with an elf maiden: Elrohir, who danced too with a grace unknown since Finrod's time   
was spinning slowly and smiling to his partner, a lady of Mirkwood.   
And Elrond watched an indescribable look in his eyes. What are you thinking, Star'son? My lost daughter? Our   
melancholy? Do you feel it too, half-Elven, or are you spared from that feeling? Do you miss our glory you were the   
last in meet, or you miss the glory of love?  
- Would you honor me with this dance, my Lord?- Elrond almost felt his face fell. Elven ladies didn't take her partners into   
dance. Except that, of course she wasn't elfish.  
Especially in the mirth in her face as she waited, a smirk at his speechless stare.  
Elrond was still looking for a suitable excuse when the song came to an end. He smiled pleasantly, and spoke lightly.  
- Very honored, Lady Arien…- but oh, so bad, song has ended, oh oh oh was he ready to tell when a quick laud broke his   
thought, and FROZE his smile.  
That blasted sharp ear of Haldir, because Finvanna doesn't have the balls to, surely.  
They heard me!  
The group now were starting the quick, enveloping, sensual primal joy of With Short Notice, a song composed long ago for the   
passionate Maglor. And Arien was still waiting, hand extended.  
Wouldn't know better I've had thought you are in game with my disgraceful sons to make me squirm, you grinning   
messenger.  
With a sigh, he surrendered. And any thought he had of getting this one away from teaching Arien was dispatched seeing her   
spin and move in perfect synch with the quick music, following the intricate Elven dancing. Arwen danced too, as Legolas,   
Estel, some ladies, and he almost fel into his face seeing Thranduil whirling and clapping as the rest. Galadriel had a teasing   
grin: Celeborn stifled his laughter, and let's don't start with Elrohir's face. But he, feeling more than slightly stupid, danced   
with one hand in Estel's and other in Elrohir, made the complicate foot play needed, whirled, clapped, and jumped, seeing   
Arien, Arwen and Galadriel doing her part with the utmost grace, changed pairings, clapped again, bowed, and back again. But   
in a moment he was circling Arwen as Estel circled Arien, as he saw Elrohir circling his Grandmother, he had a strange   
sensation.  
It's like old.  
Why it feels so good?  
There was no major difference between her and the feeling of any other elf lady's hand.   
Whirling…  
Her blue robe mixed with Arwen's red dress as they made a hand in hand step, then with Galadriel's sparkling white lace.   
Galadriel's eyes was shining, her prophetic eyes fixed in the Gondor lady, and then, for a moment, Elrond felt those piercing   
eyes in him.  
What does he knows? What is she trying to tell me?  
He lost the synch. And of course, because couldn't be other way, Estel, doing the complicate footwork and eyes fixed in   
Arwen's smile, stepped on his toe with his big, bad, Men's foot.  
*!*  
(sound of Elven pain)  
* Laughter*  
**LAUGTHER**  
  
The feeling of his swollen toe didn't improved a single bit Elrond's humor next day, as they sat in the terrace, Estel sitting far,   
faraway of him, looking very sorry, in contrast to the rest of the table, that looked very smug.  
A bell sound, in the distance.  
Arien was sat across of him, next Gandalf, her black robe of Gondor a bit thick for summer. She looked fresh, anyway, her   
hair up, and her eyes clear. There was Thranduil and his sons, near Elrond's own, and Mithrandir, Celeborn and Galadriel hand   
in hand in one end of the table. Círdan of Mithlond was there too, eyes calm, as always hating violence but ready to defend his   
kind, the silver hair short, the dark tunic water-colored pooling around him like the waves his heart was part of. He stood there,   
apart in a way as he always did, and his eyes shone with a fire different at usual elves, and with him the triad of power of the   
elves was complete: Rivendel, Lorien, Mithlond. The place to heal, the place to sleep, the place to say goodbye.  
It was a beautiful morning, shiny and fresh, the sky so blue and pale as Arien's eyes as the sun had arisen clear and   
gold. The trees around then whispered with the Bruinen, hidden as always, present as the flow of silver keeping Rivendel from   
being stained, damaged, for enemy hands and for the time itself.  
It was time.  
Elrond spoke softly, not ordering, nor asking, only revealing what he was ready to do. The Three would chase the darkness out   
of Dol Guldor, in the middle of winter, and everybody can help or doesn't help at his or her whim. Mithrandir agreed, saying   
they had waited too much. Círdan objected, oppose as always to involve in violence, but then nodded. Thranduil was   
enthusiastic and grateful, even if he let fall some acid remark about how the help could have came much sooner.   
Elrond swallowed his reproaches: he had the right to. It was that feeling in his gut, urging him to put hands to work like he   
hadn't felt from the Last Alliance. It was like someone shouting Now or it would be too late…  
Of all of them, the one who hadn't spoken when the bell rings again, at lunch's time, it was Arien, representing Saruman.  
- Arien? Something to say, please? –  
- We need to know the thoughts of the White Lord, Lady Arien.- added Celeborn, and Galadriel looked at him with a funny   
face. Elrond couldn't help but gave her a warm smile. Do we need? The both had always more love for Mithrandir, the   
simple, than for the complicate Saruman.  
- I'll inform of all I've heard here, my Lords.- she said humbly.- I'm not an ambassador, I'm only a messenger. But if   
everybody is agreeing and ready, I don't think The White Lord wouldn't oppose to your wills. At this mighty decision, I think   
he would give you your full support. If he has something to say, I dare say I'll be back here with the message in early autumn.  
Elrond smiled. Finally, the end of the watching peace.  
- And your sire of Gondor, Arien?-  
- Oh.- her face lightened, and she let drop her serious, pensive face.- He would be delighted to know someone else is doing   
the fighting.-   
Some laughs, some grins. The pride of Minas Tirith had always gained a respectful nod from them.  
- So be it.- Elrond said.- Mornie utulie: it's time to make it morning.-  
The bell rings for a last time, and was silent. Elrond looked at Galadriel, who nodded, and to Círdan, that gave him a resigned   
nod.  
Then he looked back to Arien, standing there tall, and respectful, quiet with sun in her hair.  
They had decided to chase away the Shadow, and suddenly, he knew Arien wasn't thinking in it. It was naked need, deep   
longing in her face.  
What is what she was staring at…?  
  
- So you'll come back as soon as Saruman makes his mind, so?- Elrond said later, as Arien prepared to jump onto her saddle,   
Gondor clothes gone for fresh white shirt and trousers. She had a bag with Rivendel delicacies Arwen had collected for her,   
and letters from Celeborn, Elrond and Mithrandir to Saruman, as a pure-breed horse she looked ready and anxious to flee. But   
it was still a deep longing there, and as she looked to his eyes, Elrond knew she didn't wanted to left the Valley.  
- Yes, my Lord.-  
- Arien, ride safely.-  
- I know the letters and the message are quite important, my Lord. I promise I'll be fast and safe.-  
- I'm talking about your safety too, young lady.-  
She… blushed?  
- Thank you, Lord Elrond.-  
- Arien…- Elrond would have wanted Mithrandir next to him, to evaluate her, he whom has eyes sharper than blades, able to   
know.- … will you tell me someday what is tormenting you?-  
Caught. Deny and guilt n her eyes.  
- Arien…?-  
Suddenly, eyes full of tears.  
- Namarie, my lord.- she said, bowing. And she left, the black Elfaroth quick as a whisper, leaving into noon.  
I made you cry. Oh, sweet child of mine, I didn't intend to…  
… What is troubling you so much, hunting your clear eyes? What is it? There is something I can do for you?  
Just tell me.  
And we didn't left you time to enjoy yourself in my library, as I have promised you!  
- Saruman's word or not, I hope to see that lady again soon.- Mithrandir said, behind him.- And maybe, Elrond, we could   
chase away that shadow in her eyes.-  
- You saw it too?- Elrond stared into the Istari, who had a red jewel in his hand as Círdan of Mithlond stood by his side.  
It is…?  
It was fire in the eyes of the wizard.  
- I'm going to Dol Guldor.- the Istari said, eyes ablaze.- And the third will be the last time.-  
  
Sweet Child Of Mine  
© Gun's Roses. 


	4. From Mordor- Let Me Sail

Twelve Songs In Rivendel.  
An Elrond Romance   
by The Fox.  
  
Chapter Four  
From Mordor   
Let Me Sail.  
Early Autumn  
Estel wasn't on Rivendel, but scouting the North with his Rangers, and all Rivendel missed him. Elrond did, grudgingly,   
and as he sat at the window of his study, looking the golden trees shed their clothing, shyly at first, into the wind turning   
Rivendel's soil into gold he knew part of it was missing Arwen's laugh, that easy, free laugh she only indulges herself near   
him.  
The winter was coming, and Elrond was getting nervous. Mithrandir has come back at end of summer, drained and spent from   
his last travel to Dol Guldur. Their worst fears were confirmed: it wasn't an Ulairi, a Nazgul, as they feared, but the Dark   
Lord himself who had risen in the Forest, and was waiting to strike.   
Despite Saruman's assurances, Elrond knew deep inside that it was now and never, before he took hold of the Lost One Ring.  
It must now.  
Mithrandir rested in Rivendel, healing. But the Fire Ring suited him well giving him strength and energy, and he planned to do a   
last trip to Bree, the Shire and beyond for a birthday party he said he couldn't miss.  
Elrond would have thought he was joking, didn't he know him.  
Crazy old man. We are planning a desperate battle and he is worried about presents and fireworks.  
The quick rush of horses took him out of his musings. He recognized Elfaroth, Arien's horse, and then the laugh of Arwen,   
happy as he hadn't heard for a long while. For that, if only, he was glad of the Gondor's lady arrival.  
More laughs, Elladan and Elrohir's. If them were in home, surely…  
… Was that Estel's? Yes.  
Wouldn't Arwen be delighted.  
And then, five blurs passed under his window, black, brown, white, white, and brown. Elladan had lost the race, apparently,   
he thought with a smirk. I wonder what it was at stake.   
He hurried to the balcony, smiling, suddenly happy. They were in home, safe and sound, and suddenly he was aware he was   
glad for the Gondor messenger's safety no less that for his sons.  
They were still in their saddles, laughing and shouting, confusion at the foot of Rivendel's stairs. Estel looked well and rested,   
laugh open and free as stood near Asfaloth. Elladan was arguing with Elrohir, as Arwen shook her head smugly, long black   
tresses free in the wind.  
And Arien…  
… Arien was dismounting, face hidden, dressed in heavy leather gear for traveling, her hair in a long braid, and when she   
looked up…  
Elrond left the balcony and went down the stairs as quickly as he could, lifting the hem of his robes as he downed stairs three   
by three.  
She needs help, now.  
  
She bowed, as Estel, Elladan and Elrohir shouted they greetings. But Elrond passed them swiftly, and putting a hand in Arien's   
arm, stared deep into her face.   
She was pale, with that kind of translucence that only the deepest exhaustion brings. Her lips where only faintly tinted with   
peach, but it looked almost red in her white face. Her hair fell like lifeless, her eyes surrounded by dark circles were haunted   
as she tried to smile.  
Haunted by Darkness.  
Where the hell Saruman sent her this time!?  
- Greetings, my Lord.- she said with a faint voice that tried to be cheerful, and emerged heart-breaking.- I have come, to give   
you the White Lord and the Lord Of Gondor's answers…-  
He took the letters, and preceded her to his study, eyes on her.   
Wouldn't knew where the Nine Rings are, I've thought she had one, and was fading in my sight, he thought with   
sadness. She looked beyond sickness. How could my sons, how could Arwen doesn't see it and *race* her, Elbereth's   
sake?  
He tore open the letters, and his eyes quickly scanned the elegant handwriting of Saruman, the stiff writing of Denethor.  
"… I'll support you, and if all of you, wise elves, had took this course of action I, as Head of the White Council will not only   
approve but join my efforts of mind and power to your goals…"  
Blah, blah, blah. Galadriel was so right: Saruman was a mouth and power with a devious mind, more inclined to   
himself than anything. And he tries to swoon me with nice words, the arrogant.  
"… Saruman the White agreeing and assuring the fact it's time the battle took place in Mirkwood, I can't help but agree and   
wish you well…."  
Blah, blah, blah. Denethor hadn't changed since his petty hate to * Thorongil*. Always Gondor, Gondor, Gondor.   
How can't he see farther, an Oesternesse man?  
THUD.  
Elrond wondered what had fallen, still scanning the letters.  
- Father!-  
Can't you see I'm busy?  
*More urgent*- FATHER!-  
- What is it, Arwen?!-  
He lifted his eyes, to see Arwen knelt by an unconscious Arien.  
Oh, damn you, Curunir.  
  
- Let me sail… let me sail…-  
-What is she saying…?- Arwen, worried, had put her in bed, revealing a bunch of bruises and cuts not healed in a too thin   
body. She shook, feverishly, and whispered in her delirium, as Arwen braided the hair wildly around her head, preventing it to   
knot as she moved in her fever.  
- She's singing…- Erestor, best disciple of Elrond in the arts of healing which he had mastered tried to still her, putting a damp   
cloth to her fevered forehead, but she clawed it away.- Why she fights so…-  
- She's fighting to live.- Elrond sighed.- She is just like when I met her, but worse.-  
- Can you save her, father?- Arwen's eyes were worried, angst there. Elrond was surprised: Arwen never grew attachments   
so quickly.  
But it was supposed neither I do, but here I am.  
- She had been under the shadow, undoubtedly.- Mithrandir was worried too, as he took the claw like hand that shook as   
Arien, eyes clenched, moaned like in deep, piercing pain.- And more than a time. What it is Saruman thinking…- he said,   
sorrow in his voice.   
- The venom of the Nazgul and Sauron turns voice to ice, and life into a cold, painfully drowning flickering candle.- Elrond   
continued, brow frowned.- Had she been in Mordor, where the Nazgul hides, or in Dol Guldur, the result is the same. And she   
is far too weak and exhausted. I only can wonder how far she had traveled this time.-   
The room was dark: Arien had been writhing in pain for hours, pain that didn't look like vanishing even under all of Elrond's   
skills. It wasn't only the pain of the Darkness: her body was exhausted beyond relief, too weak, too tired to grab hold into a   
soul suffering so much. She was near surrender, and even Elrond couldn't help.  
- I don't really know, Arwen.- he sighed, putting another asea arannion into hot water, and imposing his healing hands into   
Arien's naked shoulders, thin as bird's wings, the soft white sleeping robes Arwen had changed her in sliding from her body,   
twisted and ripped in her convulsions.  
Please, Arien of Gondor, come back from the darkness, do not dwell there. Fight and come back, to the sunlight, were   
I am waiting to take you back home.  
I debt you an afternoon in my library.  
You debt me an answer. Is this what haunts you? Is the memory of Darkness? What are what your eyes long for?  
Come back to me…  
… Elbereth, lady of stars, as you lighted long ago the night with your gift to us, light again into her the light of life…   
show her your light…  
  
Elrond sat in her side the whole night. The autumn night was quiet, and barely one leaf moved outside as the stars which   
power he had invocated shone over a black sky. Her fight had ceased at sunset: with the last dying sunray, she had   
succumbed into deep sleep, a sleep that was the hallway to death as Irmo's Lorien was the garden to Namo's Mandos. Her   
skin was paler and paler, and Elrond waited there, with only the starlight clearing the shadows, a pale moon too thin still to   
light.  
It was midnight, and the Lord of Rivendel watched the Shadow choke the last of life out of that body, shadow he wasn't able   
to chase away.  
Where have you been, Arien?  
Would you vanish, woman of short life, taking with you your shining spirit I liked so much, bright sun in our sunset?  
Open your eyes…  
… to me…  
A whisper…  
… she was singing, singing slowly, an old, old song, whose words now doesn't mean nothing, but that eons ago meant so   
much…   
A song so sad of the Second Age where kingdoms and songs where still bathed with the Memory of Trees, where the ones   
who never went and the ones who came back dreamed to go home…  
She barely whispered with hoarse voice, but Elrond recognized the desperate need and longing of his kind.   
  
let me sail, let me sail, let the snow of Sirion flow,  
let me reach, let me beach on the shores of Alquelonde.  
let me sail, let me sail, let me crash upon your shore,  
let me reach, let me beach far beyond Vinyamar Sea.  
  
And as she did, starlight shone on her pale skin, through the veil of flesh. She shone like a pool where the moon reflects herself   
suddenly, like a snowed peak where the stars reflects.  
She shone like an powerful elf, yet she is human.  
Elrond rose, and watched her, eyes open, singing in valinorean with tears on her eyes, hands lifted as she begged…  
  
from Ossiriand to Doriath - in the shade of Melian,  
from Nargothrond to Nevrast and the Isle of Balar,  
from Thargelion to Dor-Lomín hear the power of Gondolin,  
from Himlad to Dorthonion - far beyond Hithlum.  
  
She sings as she knows what it means. She sings like her sole song would be enough to make her one of us and grant   
her passage to Eressea…  
  
from the Est to the West, beyond Tol Eressea,  
from the deep sea of Clouds to the Island of the Calacirya,  
carry me on the waves to the lands I've never been,  
carry me on the waves to the lands I've never seen.  
  
She begs…  
… it feels like she begs to me…  
  
we can sail, we can sail...  
we can steer, we can near with Vingilot at the sight,  
we can sigh, say goodbye Sahta Arda and her light…   
we can sail, we can sail...  
  
Slowly he took her hands, and for a last time emptied all of his mighty will of healing into her.   
Please, let it be enough…  
Suddenly, heat and power, and her life sparkled to life, as the Shadow was chased away and erased for Elrond's will. He   
blinked, and saw Gandalf with her other hand in his. And the Fire Ring, Narya, shining in his hand like a living flame.  
Vilya shone blue in answer.  
And Arien fell into deep, resting dreams.  
  
- Great is the joy to see you back into life and hope again, my beautiful Lady!- Mithrandir, still weak too, but smiling, saluted   
the next day, seeing a uncertain, disheveled, still pale but smiling Arien step into the balcony of her room, directly above the   
terrace where the Istari and Elrond played a table game, Arwen not far, stitching. They were enjoying the faint sunrays of   
autumn, and soft breeze moved Arien's long white sleeping robe, her hair free and loose, the ends curling again.  
- I couldn't thank you enough, my Lords, Lady Arwen.- she said, softly. Arwen put her work aside to go to her, and Elrond   
looked up and smiled.  
Arien's eyes were clear again.  
- You went through many things to take this letters to me, my lady. The less I can do is help you to recover from your   
exhaustion.- he said, gently.- But please, go back to bed. Days are fresh now, and I'll go to see you soon. You have to recover   
your strength, now.-  
She bowed, and disappeared from view. But Gandalf stared at Elrond.  
- She is so weak, I think a whisper would take her away.-  
- More reason to keep her here. If Saruman send her again to hell, she would not made it.- Elrond spoke with anger, and   
sadness. And Gandalf peeked to his gaze, to say with a lighter tone:  
- Not all the Istaris are like that, do you know.-  
Elrond shrugged.  
- I hope.- he said, feigning a miffed expression.  
  
Rivendel nor was only a place of healing: it was THE place of healing in MidEarth, as Lorien was the place to forget. And   
Arien stayed two weeks, awaking every morning to the bird singing and the whisper of Bruinen that was Rivendel's essence   
in autumn. A blanket of gold leaves blowing in the fresh air of morning, air that was healthy and new, whirled her hair and   
stayed there, like a promise of spring.   
A routine blossomed as a flower, and Arien enjoyed very early walks in the beautiful forests, surrounded by pine and   
rosewood. She wandered around, sometimes meeting Mithrandir, who always coaxed laughs from the lady, or the early-riser   
Estel was, the fine young man gentle and calm, and sharing with her the knowledge and memories that traveling the same   
paths for years come with.   
When the sun was finally up, she came back, a white shawl Arwen gifted her whirling in the picking wind, to Elrond's   
library. There, the lord of the house was always already, head bent over parchment and books, the pale sun casting teasing   
glints in his circlet, a warm mantle enveloping his form. They rarely talked, as he worked and Arien sat in silence, comfortably   
in a lounge near the fireplace with a tome or two of dense valinorean or teasing Quenya, picking her way through the flowing   
handwriting that sometimes was Elrond's own.   
Elrond sometimes suspended his work to stare her tense concentration, her joy finding words about Luthien from   
Doriath or Idril Celebrindal from Gondolin, her sighs as she searched methodically book by book in a patience that amused and   
amazed Elrond. They stood like that till noon, where the bells called them to lunch, and they walked to the Hall together, talking   
about this or that affair, discussing philosophy, so different Gondor from Rivendel's thought schools where, or epic poetry   
about the Noldor, something she had a knack for. But mostly of the time they avoided the themes of Saruman or Dol Guldor:   
Arien didn't told him how she went over the shadow, and he didn't ask. They simply enjoyed their walking together,   
sometimes she answering a question of the lord about the places and cultures she had visited, or he clarifying a point of the old   
legends of the obtrusive Quenya she was still to grasp the meaning for.  
Arwen was always glad to snatch Arien from her father after lunch, and kidnapping her into quiet places to do a bit of what   
she called teasingly " girl talk". The two ladies, almost exact opposites enjoyed their time together, talking and walking, singing   
or dancing in a clearing under the clad in yellow trees. Arien never tired to walk through Rivendel beautiful, free lands, and she   
was lost by herself long hours, striding or in horse, meeting with the land where the rime had stopped. It had a bit of   
everything: Elrond had made through the years a place where always what was beautiful in Arda had a representation there,   
and Arien saw into that little Arda a memory of everyplace she had met. It was the diminutive painting of the world of Eru,   
and Elrond, powerful and benevolent was the fount of all those things, his eternal soul reflected there like another Manwe,   
Lord of Wind, his breath the touch of heaven keeping all that things alive and young.   
Rivendel has hidden spots everywhere, hits of sight that left you breathless. She went to the Bruinen's falls, where the water   
made a silently white veil over exuberating dark green vegetation so alike beautiful Eregion, and to the fertile fields, so alike   
the happy Shire. She watched the bed of flowers the hills were, mapped with tiny little flows, or the brilliant forests of gold and   
green, so alike Ithilien and Lorien. And she wandered around, the wanderer that had found and loved every secret of the   
Midearth finding her heart's desire. It was like a picture of her travels all together in the same place, filling his mind with the   
most beautiful memories, hers mixing with the memories of times long ago lost but still existing in this magical valley. It was   
Arda like it must have been before Morgoth and Sauron's staining, like only good things had survived and left their memory   
here…  
It spoke to her from herself, too, to a deep place where she recognized every leave, every design into her heart. It was her   
reflection. And she sung, as she walked, an old song that came to her mind like a expression of her joy, of her reviving   
strength, and more than all, of the feeling to have finally came home.  
There's a heart that must be free to fly   
That burns with a need to know the reason why   
Must there be a secret me I'm forced to hide?   
I won't pretend that I'm someone else for all time   
When will my reflections show who I am inside?   
And with that, she cried, the agony in her heart suddenly impossible to endure.   
  
It was like that Elrond found her an afternoon the sunlight had came through a light rain, painting rainbows, and he   
decided to enjoy the Sun of Laurelin outside. He wandered though the land that was his, nor by conquest, but out of love. And   
he had wandered into Rivendel's jewel, the place where the Bruinen made the most regular circling of the valley, gallant into   
his contention to then explode in the most beautiful veil of water, silent waterfall where the leaves and petals the wind strayed   
made intricate designs. He walked, and the heard a low, sad voice singing, and a sob.  
  
I won't pretend that I'm someone else for all time   
When will my reflections show who I am inside?  
  
And his heart fluttered with strange commotion, the same sadness and despair that would have filled his healer's heart at the   
sound of a hurt stag's cry. He went, loudless steps knowing every rock and root, to the place where glistening gray rocks sat   
by the riverbank, forever soaking their feet. And there it was a young elven lady, long floating robes of white and brown   
straying down the rock she sat, almost kissing the water, knees embraced, the curve of her neck speaking of misery.  
It took him a second to recognize the flame-colored hair, prisoner into along braid surely made by the deft hands of Arwen.   
And with a start he saw something he hadn't seen, being so close: that trousers and uniform gone, and dressed in Arwen's   
exquisite taste in Elven attire, the long floating dress of a elven maid and the warm shawl of brown softness, crowned in dry   
flowers, tiny glistening gems around her neck, it wasn't for the un-elvish, defiant hair, she could have, she had been easily   
mistook by an elven lady. even by him, whom, like Peredhil knew the differences between the Two Lineage by heart.  
She was sad.  
Elrond wouldn't have been Elrond if he wouldn't have went to put healer's hand in her shaking shoulders. In someway, the   
sadness of something so vital, so alive it seemed suddenly sadder to him that the waning of the entire Elven race, from the   
ones who didn't so brilliantly real to start.  
- Arien…- he said gently, his hands soothing. She had stopped suddenly her sad, despairing sobs. But Elrond, feeling the   
tremors still under his hands, the heart racing like a dying bird, softly turned her to him.  
Her cheeks where covered in tears, and his heart ached.  
- Arien, what's wrong…?- he asked, the power burning in his hand. If is something he could do, all-powerful lord of this tiny   
realm, he would to banish her pain. But he looked into her eyes of pale blue, of winter morning, and found there a sadness so   
impossible to vanish like it was impossible to vanish the sadness imprinted in his own race into the twilight.   
Something from her heart.  
- I must go soon, my Lord.- Arien said softly, drying her tears. Elrond stared, as the wind made some leaves dance their death   
dance around them.  
- You are not fully healed, Arien. And if your heart feels like that, I can't let you go before to try to ease that pain. Please.- he   
said, soft order there.- Please, let me know.-  
- I must go… - she repeated, but avoided his eyes.- It's just that the thought of leaving the fair Rivendel saddens me, my lord.-   
She was avoiding his eyes.  
She was using the utmost formal speech.  
But she was saying the truth.  
Is her heart in that turmoil just for leaving us…?  
-This is your house. Came as soon you can, Arien.- he said, as formal, as gentle.  
And she bowed, and suddenly, was shook for an uncontrollable sob.  
Elrond had had enough, and let himself embrace her, soothing her sobs with a no-word elven song, his hand on her hair as she   
emptied misery into his chest. As he rocked her gently, the wind became stronger, making words impossible to decipher.  
-… Almost forgotten… I was resigned… I had stopped to dream… but when I came here… I can't go… I can't leave… -  
Please, don't cry Arien of Gondor. Please, don't soak my land with your tears that goes straight to my heart. Please   
smile, and let your heart soar…  
Sing to me, into my fading sunset.  
Her sobs subsided, and she dried her eyes. She mouthed apologies, lost as Elrond dried her eyes with his own handkerchief,   
and bent, to kiss her forehead.  
Carry my blessing.  
Calm your heart.  
And come back to me, my lady.  
Under his kiss, she smiled, sun out a cloud into a marvelous ray of sunset.  
And they came back into Rivendel, in silence.  
- Don't go again under the Shadow. No power would take you back this time.-  
- I wouldn't,. my Lord. My mission in Mordor is done.-  
Mordor?  
A long, long silence.  
- Would you take my decision to Saruman, Arien.-  
- It's my duty and my privilege, my Lord.- she said gently, with tone lightening by effort.- I'll ride like I haven't…-  
Elrond shut her with a hand to his lips. Fingers that had been one day callused by sword, were now soft from healing's duties.   
- Would you tell what is it, Arien?- he asked, only once, just before to enter the Hall of Rivendel, where Elladan and Elrohir,   
Arwen and Estel, and Mithrandir talked and joked.  
- No, my Lord… not yet.-  
- So, I'll be waiting when you are ready.-  
- Thank you.- the words weren't enough to describe the feeling into Arien's secretive eyes.   
  
Estel, Elladan and Elrohir went into the West next dawn, following the same path Mithrandir in his way to the Shire and Arien   
in her path to Isengard followed. They went away into the sunset: Elladan joking, Elrohir serious, Estel with his eyes nailed to   
the balcony where he and Arwen said goodbye, and Mithrandir chatting with Arien. She carried the letter with the deadline   
and the designs of the main plan for the Dol Guldor's attack, the night of mid winter, to Saruman to know.  
She looked up, and smiled to him. But he never was fooled again: he was the wisest elf lord, and he saw the desperation   
growing like a tide there.  
Come back to me, and tell me your secret. I'll be waiting, and I'll ease it. After all, before Peredhil or lord, I am a   
healer.  
- Arien! You owe a song!- Arwen waved goodbye to them, her smile faltering when she saw Elrond's frown.  
- Father?-  
- War is coming, Arwen. And that five that there go would be swept away into the tide, Arien the first.-  
- Father!-  
Elrond closed his eyes. The certainty of his prophecy fisted his heart, hearing Arien sob, not into his memory, but into the   
future, echoes in the place that she had recognized home.  
He felt still the wetness of her tears, flooding his mind.  
You'll tell me. And we'll finally get to know if I am the wisest elf of the MidEarth, or I am not, this winter of war.  
  
Orinoco Flow © by Enya.  
Reflections © Christina Aguliera 


	5. From Rohan- A Moment's Memory

Twelve Songs In Rivendel.  
An Elrond Romance   
by The Fox.  
  
Chapter Five  
From Rohan   
A Moment's Memory.  
Early Winter  
  
The wind had become cold, even if the mornings were still bright with the silver sun of   
winter. Swift white clouds like doves crossed the sky over Rivendel quickly, dancing into embraces   
into the Misty Mountains peak, covering the Hidden Valley with a warm blanket of white and gray in   
the afternoons, through which the sun had to peek to gave them marvelous afternoons of cherry and   
water. And Elrond had wandered, lost in his thoughts, enveloped in his warm deep red mantle,   
walking alone to the folds of Bruinen, his reflection blood in the water as he looked to the immense   
white sky and thought in the sunset.  
Mithrandir has came and go, and he would come back again.  
The autumn of preparation, the winter of tragedy was already starting. And Galadriel said it was   
time. Time.  
Now or never, in Mithrandir's words, a firm, strong kick into the bee hive. And then, we will   
run for cover.   
If the wisdom of elves is an instinct that doesn't stops shouting, maybe the real wisdom is to   
comply, Elrond thought with a smile. He stood in a tall rock dominating the Bruinen, the water   
flowing gently at his feet, clear and silver under the white sky. But Elrond frowned, staring over the   
river, and the water flowed more and more violently, till became a waterfall of snow, exploding and   
bubbling, hearing the call of their master. It become a glistening wall between Rivendel and the   
darkness looming in the East, and the hand of its Lord rose, shining blue, the water following its   
movement as a loyal son.   
It was time: it is feel in water, the light, and the wind itself. And Elrond, master of the Ring of Air,   
stood defiantly, his elven gaze piercing the horizon over the misty mountains protecting Rivendel,   
right into the darkness where the enemy recoiled at the threat. The wind blew around him, showing   
his support, whirling his mantle and his long black hair into tendrils of shadow. He stood there, elven   
poetry of defiance and power, strong enough to keep his proud head up under the storm. He could   
have been a statue for his quietness and his beauty, but for the glint in his eyes of silver, eyes that   
was very much alive, where intelligence and will blazed like light. The circlet shone as a blue star.  
We are ready. And we, the Elven Lords, would buy a little more time from you, Sauron, Lord   
of Total Evil, with all the power we have left. And we will give time to the Third Age to   
prepare your downfall, before it dies and wipe us, and our very memory too, from Arda.  
We are ready.  
The wind blew gently, taking with him the second where Elrond looked a high Elven king, all   
powerful and legendary, pointing a finger to the darkness recoiling and groveling at his feet. And he   
became again a slender elf, enveloped in a thick mantle against the cold, his gaze gentle and tired.   
The Bruinen at his feet rested again, kind as a mantle of warm, liquid clouds. And Elrond was   
stepping down the rock, as the sun went down too, when he heard it: a horse, crossing the water. He   
walked to the riverbank, covered in tiny blue and gray rocks, and waited there. He smiled at the   
sight of Arien, hood threw back, long hair swirling behind her like a mantle, eyes alive and twinkling,   
crossing the River as quick as she could, Elfaroth honoring his name, the black horse exploding the   
water into snow-like foam as he galloped securely, swiftly.  
She saw him, and smiled, her horse making a tiny circling to avoid splashing the Lord. She jumped   
from the saddle, and bowed, thick clothes enveloping her form, leather black trousers, a very heavy   
leather and iron chainmail, and a long, glistening leather cloak hanging with a silver chain from her   
neck. Over all that black her hair shone as the dying sun in the blackness.  
- Good afternoon, my Lord.- she said, shining pale eyes into his.- I am so happy to be back into the   
fair Rivendel.-  
- And Rivendel opens arms to you, dear Arien.- Elrond said kindly, joining action to thought, and   
enveloping the young messenger in his arms, against his scented mantle. Arien looked surprised, but   
delighted, and smiled brightly at the warm welcome, leaving her hands in Elrond's, watching his   
smile with wide eyes.  
- How are you, Arien? Is everything fine?-  
Her mood grew somber, but she spoke softly.  
- I have so much to tell you, my Lord.-  
- So we'll hurry. If you let me ride with you your marvelous stallion, that's it.- he said, walking to the   
horse, who waited calmly, and let him touch his proud, arched neck. It was black as midnight, tall   
and strong, and it looked fresh, even after the ride, and being heavily charged. He kicked the ground,   
impatient, and looked to his master, whom was nodding, a flush in her cheeks.  
- Of course, my Lord. It would be…- Elrond jumped to the saddle with agile grace .- …an honor?-   
she blinked.  
- Don't worry, Arien, I know how to ride, I taught Arwen and the boys myself. Did you think I went   
to the Last alliance Battle in carriage?- he said, a smile in his features. In fact, it has been some   
years since the last time he had a stallion between his legs, feeling the powerful muscles of the noble   
beast as his. But with that it came the memories of wild rides with his lost brother, the laugh of   
Feanor's sons, the wind in his hair as he ride with Gil Galad and Elendil. And then the earlier years   
of Rivendel where young Arwen, Elladan, and Elrohir enjoyed the sun of the autumn of elves under   
his attentive look.  
Years passing by…  
Elrond didn't know, but the mist of memory had given him a beauty that mere mortals never found.   
And he wasn't aware, either, of the sublime adoration in Arien's eyes, as she waited, standing by   
the horse. She was staring as she had seen Elrond's mask slip, showing where the ancient elven   
king has been now a young powerful warrior and rider with Human blood in his veins, all passionate,   
all fresh and alive. Elrond looked at her, and smiled, and suddenly extended a hand and an arm that   
were too strong for his slenderness, to hook hers and lift her into the saddle. She fell nested between   
his thighs, and he called at the horse and ride to the Last Homely House at full speed. It were wise   
hands letting the reins almost loose, strong spine arched into the galloping, brilliant eyes full of light   
and laugh as they crossed the wind that called him his Master. Arien was there, quiet and   
speechless, her eyes wide and her mouth parted, too stunned to talk, too stunned to even breath, as   
she was carried back the Home by a Human prince born in the storm. The black cloak and the red   
mantle were free in the brisk wind of winter, and red gold and black mixed too in their hair, as   
Elfaroth, guided by expert hands that called this land his, rode away the fields, never doubting, never   
stopping. The wild ride only relented at the archways of the house, as the night started to fall.   
- My Lord…- she said, as he let Elfaroth enter with a light step to the stone patio.  
- My thanks for this pleasure, my dear Arien.- he smiled, coming to a halt, and dismounting with a   
flourish of pale tunic and mantle. It was a flush in his cheeks, a glint she was sure never have seen,   
or even imagined, in the usually stoic face of the Lord If Imladris.- It was the most refreshing thing   
I've had in years. Please, follow me into the house. you need to rest and eat, and we need to talk.-  
She dismounted too, still staring. Elrond was walking, more quickly that it was his usual demeanor,   
inside the house, and his voice was louder and more lively. And suddenly, Arien knew what were in   
those eyes, and smiled. It was the wind. Wind that usually, always was a gentle breeze, now had   
came to life briefly, into a shining, fresh, warm gentle rainstorm over cold earth.   
- If Gondor lent stallions like that to his messengers, no doubt Lord Denethor must be the most   
quickly informed lord in the West.-  
Arien shook her head, as Elrond left her in the stairwell that conduced to the room they had called   
hers everytime she had came.- No, it isn't a Gondor horse, we have few ones. But my old horse   
was shoot by the Orcs last years in defense of Rohan and Isengard, and the White Lord has the   
gentleness to gift me this by change, with the King of Rohan's acquiescence. I'm coming back from   
that very lands now, my Lord.-  
Elrond eyes dimmed, and his smile vanished hearing those names, and Arien cursed herself. Then   
Elrond smiled again, but he was again the Lord Of Imladris, tall and gentle, and faraway.  
- Go and refresh yourself, my lady. We'll see at dinner, and then we could discuss the matters at   
hand. And then, if you want, can use my library all the time you may wish.-  
  
- So Saruman would join our forces. That is good.- Elrond rolled the parchment again, pensively,   
between his long fingers. Arien, very tall and straight stood in the front of his desk, having delivered   
the letters from Isengard, Moria and Minas Tirith she had to. She was wearing her uniform black   
robes, and her hair was up into a brilliant brass helmet, her hands behind her back as she stood   
patiently. Elrond rested his chin in his folded hands, eyeing Arien, the roll still lazily between his   
fingers.  
- Did he gave you any spoken message?-  
- Yes, my Lord. In fact, he entrusted me the whole planning of his actions, to deliver it to you and   
Mithrandir.-  
Elrond eyed her, unbelieving.  
- Are you serious?-  
- Yes. He said it wouldn't be wise to rejoin the Council now: it would be too obvious. He gave a lot   
of suggestions for you, anyway.-  
- Why he trusted in you for this?- it was rougher he meant too, and he extended a hand to apology   
himself. But she looked down, and then smiled.  
- I asked him the same.-  
- And?-   
- The exact words it were " because only you can cope with that arrogant Peredhil boy"-  
Elrond sputtered as Arien examined her nails.  
- Anyway.- he crossed his arms, trying to recuperate the serious mood.- What are, exactly, his   
ideas?-  
Arien, after a questioning look, and Elrond's nod, took a piece of parchment and a quill, wet with   
blue ink. Swiftly, and with notable skill, he drew with quick and sure traces the Valley of Rivendel,   
Moria, Fornost, Isengard, Lorien, the Misty Mountains, Dol Guldor and Mirkwood's West.  
- The orcs and beasts must be contained in his flood when Dol Guldor fell, and for that the Dunedain   
and Thranduil's people surely could do. But to chase away the shadow, he asked me to give you a   
cryptic message.-  
Great.  
- Call the air from Elenna  
Call the water from the wind  
Where the fire explodes the door  
White would stand the gray.-  
Elrond's gaze hardened. Oh, arrogant white bastard.  
- Tell him I understand the message quite well.- he said, his voice hard. Arien stared at him, and   
then walked to a bookcase, to give him time to think.  
It was a long silence, as Elrond scribbled some notes. And then, he sighed.  
Like head of the White Council, we must follow his plan, and he prevented our opposition   
simply wasting our time and forbidding us to reunite. And now, the old fox…  
How he did know? Not even Mithrandir…  
- Did him asked you to return with the message?-  
- No. He was sure you would accept, my lord.-  
Istaris. Sure and ball-picking as hell. Ooh, WHY didn't I listened Galadriel and made   
Mithrandir the leader of the Council? Saruman is SO easy to get into my nerves.  
Breathe, Peredhil.  
Breath.  
Arrogant_fucking_Istari.  
Breath.  
Elven Control, as Maglor used to say.  
You're the wise elf, Lord of Rivendel. You can't go giving spectacles of yourself. Think in   
Arwen and the boys, how they would laugh till get elven apoplexies.  
-… And he asked me to stay here, to help you to plan and keep track of your actions.- Arien ended   
nonchalantly.  
- WHAT??- Elrond positively bellowed. Non even Gil Galad had made him get into such a state. It   
was a good howl, anyway, for somebody who hadn't gave into one in centuries. It was the kind of   
shriek that made glasses crac, windows tremble and cats run away.   
And people cringe. Arien flattened herself in the chair, as Elrond loomed ominously over her across   
his desk, his eyes burning and wide in anger, his hair falling in her direction.  
- …Mmh … and if we call me an observer?- she sunk even more in the chair, Elrond's eyes   
glinting dangerously, blue in the deepness of silver.- … servant….? … letter-boy…?-  
Her plaintive tone made Elrond falter, and then laugh so hard his eyes misted, stumbling back into his   
chair.   
Damn sneaky Istari. He knows well I symphaty with her, and I can't help it…  
Thanks Elbereth he didn't sent her with Thranduil. He would have choked her and her   
remarks.  
- Father?- Arwen must have heard the roar.- Is everything fine?- she asked gently, exchanging a   
glance to the Gondor Lady, that smiled at her.  
Wouldn't I surprised if they are placing betsg in my anger.  
- Could you please fetch wine for us, Arwen?-he said, voice calm, but just lightly strained.- It's going   
to be a long night.-  
  
It was dawn when the whole plans where done. Saruman had asked for the power to of The Three   
to back up his and Mithrandir's already impressive power, to chase away the shadow. Galadriel, in   
the most sacred place of Lorien would call the Water: Mithrandir would call at the Fire in the doors   
of Dol Guldor, and Saruman's magic would back up Mithrandir. At the same time, Saruman's   
responsibility would be closing from Isengard the way to the old lands of Morgoth, forcing the   
Shadow to flee.   
And Elrond, from the Misty Mountains peak, from the Silver Celebdil, would call at the air, at the old   
magic that with the water and fire would drive the Shadow away…  
- Into the Celebdil? Is there such a way?- had asked Arien, incredulous.  
- Yes, it his. The dwarves of Moria, in the years of Lindon, made it for me.- Elrond said, tired,   
leaning in a window where the first sunrays could be seen. He had long ago shed his robes to stay in   
nothing but tunic and trousers, and had left his circlet in a nearby table, the hair now dark and wild   
like an expensive scarf. Arien had let her hair down too, and her fingertips were covered with ink   
from too many designs.  
Someone, awake in the dawn, maybe Glorfindel, or Finnvanna, or even Arwen, played softly an old   
song.  
A Moment's Memory.  
- It was an observatory. From there, in the clear night, you could see the lights from Oesternesse,   
Númenor of the songs. I got it done when Elros went away, as he did the Meneltarma. It was called   
just like Númenor was called in that day: Elenna. To the stars.-  
- Why…- a long silence. Elrond looked to Arien, her eyes frowning, her lips closed as she had   
blurted something she hadn't intended.  
- What?-  
- I'm sorry, my Lord, I just…-  
- Tell me, Arien.-   
- Why would a Peredhil turn down the offering of the Twilight, for a mortal life, even as a King of   
Men?-  
Elrond turned. The rays of infant son framed him, and his night hair shadowed his face. But his eyes   
where in Arien's young face, tilted to him.   
Like the answer was life or death to her… Why does she care? What is it to her?  
- I don't know what to say to you, Arien. I never understood it myself. But I can only repeat the   
words he told me, after hearing my choice.- Elrond closed his eyes, to said words that he   
remembered all to well. Words that had danced into his head, and would torment him till his way to   
Mandos.   
- My blood can be mixed, but my heart is not. I know where I belong, and I could not betray   
my heart's direction.-  
Her eyes filled with tears.  
What…?  
A blink, and it was gone.  
- I'm sorry my Lord, to have asked it. It was obviously a very painful memory for you.- she avoided   
his eyes, standing, her fingers idly recapping the inkpot. It was a long silence, and then the sun   
streaked the window as a powerful mantle of white. Elrond stepped from the window, and sat again,   
recollecting the parchments.  
- Why?- he said slowly.  
- What?- she looked back to him, handing him the still virgin parchments.  
- Why a lady like you, a Gondor Lady, does this?- Elrond smiled, even if his eyes looked more tired   
that ever.- It's your time to answer, my dear.-  
She smiled at him, a shy smile, as outside it were still sounding the soft chords of that old song. It   
was rumored to be a "starlit" song, a song before Sun and Moon, from the days without sun when   
Olwe and his people waited long time near the shores, calling themselves the forgotten people. How   
they dreamt with the Promised Shore…   
It was old and ancient, and it seemed to fill the rhythm in Arien's talking voice perfectly.  
- I born in beautiful Ithilien, many years ago.- she said, her voice a whisper.- And it was a mystery   
in my bloodline I tried to discover. I am the last one of my family, and I took my father's job as a   
messenger. Anyway, I… prefer to not stay too much time in any place.-   
- Why?- Elrond's was truly interested, his chin in his hands, his eyes tired but very focused.- Never   
though of settle down with a family?-  
Her laugh was sad, a bit ironic.- No, my lord, I couldn't.-  
- Why?- he insisted.  
She slowly took something from her neck. It was a gem: a ruby pendant, perfectly round, incredibly   
shining, red, with a touch of orange in his center. It was soft at touch, and Elrond knew it must have   
been a very ancient relic to get this soft.  
- It comes from your family?-  
She seemed to think a while. Then , her eyes grew veiled, and Elrond had that odd feeling of old in   
her gaze. A glint.  
Metal glint in pale blue eyes.  
- Your turn, my lord.-  
- What do you want to know?- Elrond smiled. He could enjoy filling her asking for knowledge: it was   
academically rewarding. A pleasure.  
- Can you talk me about the fall of Gondolin, and Idril Celebrindal, my Lord?-  
He blinked. Why she jumped like that from personal themes to her hobbies of old Elven story? But   
anyway, he could easily answer this: it was a story he knew by heart. As he talked, she wandered   
the room, to stare at the sun, turning her hair to bright gold.  
- Gondolin it was the kingdom of Turgon, a hidden valley in the mountains. She was the High King of   
Elves, and he only had a daughter, Idril Celebrindal. He was kind and powerful, and he took in   
Maeglin, the son of his murdered sister lady Aredhel and his assassin Eol, the Dark Elf. But he   
betrayed his trust in desire for Idril, who had fell in love with Tuor, the Ulmo messenger, a mortal   
man, and in revenge he gave away Gondolin' secrets to Morgoth, who took it. Tuor killed Maeglin,   
but Gondolin was lost, and just by luck and Idril's prevision they escaped with Earendil, my father, to   
the ends of Sirion.-  
She had her head thrown back, and something there made Elrond to stare. She looked away and   
familiar at time. It was nothing he had ever seen before, except on those eyes, but it was something   
there, something that was just in his blind reach. Something...  
… like an half forgotten memory, a lost poem…  
He could feel it sliding from his hand as Arien looked at him, and found words from the ancient song   
which melody filtered with the dawn into the study, song that seemed to emanate from their   
memories, so old and intimate that the lament became lullaby.  
She sung the words forgotten so long ago, in that old song of wish and parting, the song of the Teleri,   
from where he descended in a vast part. She sung, and his mind flew to lyrics that made his eternity   
a blink, that made his wisdom a child's lessons. To the unforgettable shore.  
Faraway  
Promise  
Light  
Heart and Soul  
How is the light from the blessed land?  
Is like through our tears   
a child's dream?  
Memories being made, soaring through the sky.  
Ah, starlight over me  
Like the cresting wave of ocean, where I stood.  
Aa, Take me away   
My spirit floating away in that moment's memory  
Ah, starlight over me, like the miracle of blowing wind  
Aa, Inside a dream  
Lost in that smile, that moment's memory  
Souls touching each other in the time  
Under the arms of the stars would meet…  
A promise  
In a dream  
And a kiss  
And a embrace  
Give my wandering soul rest.  
Ah, the starlight filling my arms  
Open in waiting  
And fly, over streaming light  
To where sea ends  
Into a moment's memory.  
  
And looking into her eyes, he forgot what he was ready to ask.  
She makes me feel young.  
Like a poem of Beleriand…  
- Talk me about your family, my lord.-   
  
- Good! Parry! Now… quick! Very good!-  
The shouts under his window awakened Elrond, who, still half-asleep tiptoed to his balcony, half   
alarmed by the sound of parrying steel.   
And he chuckled, gently, seeing Arwen sat in a pillar near Glorfindel, who howled directions, at   
Elrohir, who cheered, and to Arien and Elladan, dancing around into intricate parries and sword   
tricks. Elladan was a fine swordsman: he was as swift and terrifying as Glorfindel was, and quick   
minded and full of energy. But Arien was deceiving him and pulling him by leash at her whim,   
moving with a sword skill Elrond hadn't seen so finely executed from the Last Alliance. She danced   
out of reach and attacked as quickly and perfectly as an elf: she jumped and arched with the energy   
of Man: she dodged and parried with the easy efficiency of a dwarf, and moved with the calm skill   
of a soldier, aged in many battles.   
She had not only collected songs in her travelling, I see, poor son of mine, he shrugged, as he   
saw Arien put in a good use her metal-pointed boots, and the bracelet in her left arm.   
Elladan lost his patience, and gave her a wide opening in a blind charge.  
Tsk.  
A whirl, and Elladan' sword flew into Arien's grasp like a domesticated bird, her own short and   
slender sword, black and silver, making a glistening arch to aim to the handle of the flying sword and   
catch it with the elegant flourish like Gondor used to do.  
- Crap.- Elladan was glaring. – I would like to say I let you win by hospitality and deference, but I   
usually don't say so big lies.-  
- It's possible to defeat the best sword master of the world with a trick new to him, my lord Elladan,   
and I've traveled enough to get a bag of them. – she said gently, giving him his sword back.- That's   
my one advantage, my lord: my sword skills aren't formal, I'm afraid.-  
- But, none the less, you kicked my ass.-  
- Indeed.- Elrohir piped in, laughing.- we're twins, it seems.-  
- If the lady isn't tired, I think it would relay in me the debt of reclaim Rivendel's honor.- Glorfindel,   
tall and powerful, took his sword. the blonde coloring, so different to his Lord and the twins, shone in   
the early morning. His hair was in long, shining braids to avoid getting in the way of the serious   
sword master and guard: he was too a master of wisdom and a healer, but over all, he was a   
warrior, one of the most legendary of his age.   
She saluted with her sword, the easy posture, watching and alert of a Dunedain mixed with the   
nonchalance of an elf.  
Glorfindel circled, whirled, and attacked with energy. Arwen looked worried, her beautiful eyes   
troubled: but Elladan and Elrohir cheered and laughed, seeing Arien jump out the way, dock and   
whirl, and then suddenly set foot and answer Glorfindel with none the less energy. The swords   
collided and sung like a dance, as the both enjoyed the mock fight immensely. Glorfindel was patient   
and experienced, and Arien quick and agile and they looked like a large blonde cat trying to eat a   
dancing tiny bird…  
- Elendil!- she yelled suddenly, her eyes full of mischief, and she grabbed the sword like an axe, and   
with a heavy movement, very resembling of a fighting dwarf, falling to her knees brought the blunt   
side of his sword up and hammered Glorfindel fingers against his sword handle.  
Glorfindel roared, cursed, and the sword escaped from his hurting fingers.  
Arwen cheered happily. Elladan and Elrohir gave her dirty looks.  
- What? Isn't she great?- Arwen said with defiance, delicate chin up.  
-Mn.- Elladan grunted.  
- She used a combination of styles. But I can't believe you didn't saw that dwarf trick coming,   
Glorfindel.-  
Glorfindel, still nursing his abused fingers and his even more hurt pride, turned to see Elrond there, in   
tunic and trousers, sword in hand.  
- My Lord…?-  
Elrond was smiling. His fingers remembered well old tricks: and he had seen enough. He brought his   
sword to his eyes, saluting, but Arien seemed a bit jumpy.  
- But, my Lord, I can't fight you…-  
- She's scared!_ Elladan piped in, happily.  
- My Lord, you had healed me… I simply can't put sword against you…- she said, shying away. But   
Elrond was weighting the sword in hand, a glint in his eyes.  
- I was a warrior long ago before a Mater or a healer, Arien. And is time to avenge Rivendel's   
honor. – he sighed, mockingly depressed.- this is sad, my lady. My two champions and my man of   
arms had been throughly defeated.-  
She was smiling, but she doesn't look more willing that before.  
- But, my Lord…-  
- Please, Arien. If you don't fight me, I will grow offended, I promise you. And if you try to let me   
win, I will ask Elladan and Elrohir and help me and we will threw you into the Bruinen.- he smirked,   
and Arien looked dispirited.- Ready?-  
- *sigh* Yes, my Lord.-  
- Rivendel!-  
- Minas Tirith!-  
Maybe she should cry out *Isengard!*, being that her true master, though Elrond as their   
swords met in strong collision. Hers was shorter, but clearly a Oesternesse work, light and perfect   
like a moonlight, as his was one made expressly from him in Eregion's fires when Gil Galad was still   
High King. It had accompanied him to far too many battles, and it was in his hand when he yelled   
Victory! at the feet of Mount Doom.   
He had fought Dwarves.  
He had fought, long ago in the Sirion, Elves.  
He had fought humans.  
He could see through Arien's integrated style. She was full of disadvantages: not as quick as an elf,   
nor as strong as a dwarf, a slim human.   
She was a sword master, nonetheless, the kind that learns her sword skills fighting for her life, not in   
a sword Hall. She had clearly fought before, his skill always aiming to touch and flee: the style of a   
messenger. She wasn't a soldier, a warrior.  
He was. Or at the very least, he had been.  
And Elrond, blood of warrior running away like it hadn't in too long years through his body, again the   
powerful captain of the Elven High King, heaved his sword and hit Arien's with so much skill the   
sword made four complete loops in the air before to fall into his grasp.  
- Wow.- Elladan was a little intimidated. His father had looked really dangerous, for a while.  
- Are you well, Arien?- Arwen seemed a bit worried, as she neared Arien, and took her hands in   
hers, her long yellow skirts glinting in the light over the grass, white but clear.  
- Oh, I'm just fine, Lady Arwen. Your father is the most impressive sword master I ever seen.-  
- I must say you are incredibly skilled, Arien.- Elrond returned warmly, still spots of color in his face,   
giving her sword back.- It's a beautiful work. How's its called?-  
- It's a Oesternesse blade, my Lord.- she confirmed, nodding, as Arwen tenderly smoothed the hair   
escaped from her braid.- It come from my father. –  
- How its called?- Glorfindel looked interested: sword craftsmanship was one of his few own liking.-   
My Lords is called Ilmluin, Blue Wind from the Last Alliance.-  
Elrond would have said Glorfindel it was no need to translate high elf to her: he had seen her enough   
bent over valinorean books. But she simply nodded, and showed him the almost golden glint in her   
sword, the way the handle was carved like metal hook, while his it was an eagle.  
- Culmoth.- she said, smiling. Golden Red Sunset. Very appropriate, isn't it?  
- Beautiful.- Elrond said, a bit disheartedly. Adrenaline still running in a body that long ago had   
forgotten the feeling, he felt something pulling at the strings of his mind.  
It wasn't her likeness to Estel, whom he trained himself, so different from the twins or other young   
elves he had taught the ways of sword. She and Estel had that in common: the strength, the   
quickness, the energy, but over all, the unpredictability neither elf nor dwarf could afford or master.   
Like a flickering fire.  
He had felt the same training Estel, but it was something more. Something else.  
She whirling, like Glorfindel, her hair making a circle of eternity in her movements, and the   
sun in her.   
Deja vu. And of you had lived enough, like Elf, it become something of a state of dreaming.  
Where…?  
And more importantly, when…?  
A moment's memory.  
  
Mithrandir came and went from his birthday party in the Shire to Dol Guldor's doors, only Elrond   
knowing about the irony of it. And it was a dawn of blinding light when a slim caravan with Elrond   
heading, the twins, Glorfindel, Arien and a dozen of warriors said goodbye to Arwen. She stood like   
Rivendel's Lady, with Finvanna the singer by her side, and said goodbye to them from the archway   
of Rivendel, waving her hand, black hair in the wind like a flag over her red dress as the moon died   
and the day started.  
The winter is getting colder, Arien thought, enveloping herself in Arwen's shawl under her cloak.   
She said goodbye, and then looked to Elrond, who after being so close and near sometimes now   
looked as remote and faraway as the Celebdil peak itself. He was covered with a travel's mantle,   
the dark red he liked so much to wear, his hair free but for his circlet, his gray eyes lost in the far,   
and Arien though, too in the time. As the rest chatted and blew cold fingers in the chill of dawn, he   
stayed quiet and still over his horse, his gaze away, and with the sad melancholy of the waning in his   
face.  
He thought in lost years.  
And powerful like Manwe himself, wise as an Istari, ageless like Arda, he looked a moment into   
Arien's eyes, and she felt her heart stop under the weight of his gaze. It was a blue light in him.  
- Elenna.- said Elrond, looking again, a hint of sigh there, to where the Celebdil waited in the   
horizon, in the middle of the Misty Mountains.- Let's go to the stars.-  
  
A Moment's Memory.  
© Yoko Kanno, Please Save My Earth. 


	6. Into Eregion- Stars

Twelve Songs In Rivendel.  
An Elrond Romance   
by The Fox.  
  
Chapter Six  
Into Eregion  
Stars.  
  
The people of Elrond's house was clearly used to travel: they had brought comfortable tents,   
food more than enough, and any implement they could need, nonetheless traveling as fast as they   
could through the beautiful lands of Eregion. It was a background of deep green in winter around   
them, holly trees dark, and slowly patched of snow here and there under white clear sky in their way   
to the Mountains. Sunlight sometimes filtered through the clouds, and bathed them in long, slender   
columns of golden light: but the weather was cold, and they rode enveloped in thick clothes, the   
breath of the horses like white mist.  
The Lord of Imladris rode his stallion just behind his sons, whom rode straight ahead under   
the watching eyes of Glorfindel, talking and laughing, but with their eyes wide open and alert,   
traveler well used to travel across lost lands. Behind Elrond, the caravan hurried, thirty archers and   
some servants, being careful to not leave so obvious a trail. And Arien rode with them, leaned back   
into her saddle, into a step that for her surely seemed a time to enjoy herself, after years of hurry-  
hurry riding. Elfaroth looked very pleased, his black long mane sometimes wet with the falling snow,   
brilliant and shiny when he galloped. The both went after the servants, closing the group, ready to   
bolt into a ride, but quietly following them.  
They had stroke a routine easily: Elrond's people were very organized, and they in matter of   
minutes settled the camping, complete with a tent for the Lord. There were others for the sons and   
Glorfindel, their inseparable teacher, some individuals, some group ones, and a tilt to use as dinning   
place and hall where they light warm fire into shields of steel. They seemed to know the map of the   
region by heart, and in fact they did, choosing always the best paths for water and walk. They rode   
almost all day, with a little stop at noon to eat lightly, till the rising of moon, when they set camp,   
dinner, and sleep till the start of light, when they rode again. Arien knew at full gallop they could   
have made it in four days, but it would take a week. Besides, the date was still ten days away: the   
Solstice of winter.  
Arien had asked Elrond for permission to carry some of his books, and usually was engrossed in one   
of them, letting Elfaroth follow them as he please. Elrond was the same, but he often lifted eyes   
from his distracting texts to look to the Silver Celebdil, Zigil for the Dwarves, gleaming still in the   
distance, everytime looming nearer. And his gaze became worried, everytime.  
  
- Arien?- Elrohir's voice called her, and Arien's face peered out her tent flap, where she was   
changing from the heavy riding boots into something plumper.  
- Yes, my Lord Elrohir?-  
- May I come in?-  
- Please.- Elrohir bent, and entered the tiny but cozy tent they had lent Arien. It was roughly two   
meters wide, a square of gray cloth surprisingly warm shielding her skin from the cold and the   
immense fields, but she was clearly a traveler. Her bunk rested in a corner, the clothes of travel   
nicely stocked in other, and she was wearing a warm robe and fluffy shoes, sat over the bunch of   
covers and skins she enveloped herself to sleep. She had freed her hair, and seemed to be through   
the difficult task to brush it into submission.  
- How are you? – He said gently, still in his travel clothes, sitting with his legs crossed next the spot   
Arien was sat.   
- Fine, my Lord, and enjoying this travel. Your people is so very kind and helpful.-  
- I wondered if you're too tired, Arien?-  
- I am certainly not.- Arien looked back to Elrohir's handsome face. He was slightly thinner than his   
brother, and he often braided and tied his hair, unlike Elladan's wild black mane: but even if the   
physical differences between them stopped there, it was no mistaking them. Elladan always looked   
ready to jump, thin black lion of brilliant eyes, all movement and strength, a fountain of joy in the   
deepness of his clearer gaze. Elrohir was far more quiet, far more thoughtful, more alike his father,   
but sensitive and gentle in a sort of sweet, intuitive way that came from Lorien, no Imladris. He was   
very closer to a gentle black raven of soft eyes and sharp claws.  
- If it that so, would you mind go to make company to father?-  
- Isn't he busy, my Lord?-  
Elrohir sighed, and rested his sharp chin in a knee.-In fact, he is not, unless you count brooding like   
an occupation. We had tried to cheer him up, and we haven't accomplished anything. – He sighed,   
and added.- He looked bottomlessly depressed. And he hadn't even spoken of it to Glorfindel.-  
- It is maybe the proximity of war, my Lords? Or your impending travel into danger?-  
It had been decided Elladan and Elrohir would go to Dol Guldor, to participate into the coming battle.   
Arien would go with them, as Elrond let his power soar.  
- We had went and come back before. No, Arien, is there something he doesn't want to share. And   
Elladan and me remembered you always cheer him up…-  
- Do you have no idea why he is so sad, so?-  
Elrohir looked away, and spoke softly.  
- I don't know if you knew, but years ago our mother was caught in the crossing of the Caradhras   
by the orcs, and she was… hurt.- his voice dropped.- She went to Mithlond soon after. My father   
has never took this roads again, till now.-  
- I understand. Must have been terrible for you.- Arien said sympathetically, her eyes troubled.- If I   
can help, I'll go immediately. Lord Elrond has been always so kind to me.-  
- I'm glad you are here, Arien.- said Elrohir, warmly.  
- I am happy of being able to help my Lord. I'll do my best.-   
  
The night had fallen, and in the brisk wind the people of the house of Elrond stood around made-up   
fires, charcoal glowing warmly in the shadows, tossed into silver shields than left the warm to soak   
the camp, the sweet scent of apple tree wood filling the nostrils. Arien smiled at them as she made   
her way to Elrond's tent, no different at others, but maybe the one occupied as the rest laughed and   
sung around the fire. It was a beautiful night, the stars clear but not as clear as Imladris's, brilliant   
against the deep black of winter sky. It was no clouds to hide the moon's naked beauty, nor the   
outlines of the mountains close ahead. And in the cold wind Arien shivered, turning her back to the   
heat and the laughter, and standing just outside of Elrond's closed tent, where a flickering light could   
be seen through the cloth.  
- My Lord?-  
- Yes, Arien?- came the voice, soft and strangely tired.  
- May I come in?-  
A silence.  
- Of course.-  
She lifted the tent flap and wlked in. Elrond was sat in some fur, a heavy tunic over trousers, his hair   
loose, and even if he has a book nearby it was no way to mistake his position for anything else than   
brooding. But even sat in fur and barefoot he looked like a King, and Arien stood in the entrance of   
the tent, just barely larger than hers.  
- How are you, my lord? Despite our travel, I haven't talk to you for a while.- she said, gently, but   
her nervousness betrayed for her biting of a lip.  
Elrond smiled at her, but it was a smile devoid of the warm hospitality so characteristic of the Lord   
of Rivendel. If like he had left part of his soul behind in his home, with Arwen, and now only the   
warrior remains.  
- I'm fine, thank you, Lady Arien. Do you need something? Another book, maybe?- the tone was   
gentle, but tired. Arien neared him, but didn't attempt to sit.   
- Your sons are a bit worried about your spirit, my Lord. Is something wrong?-  
Elrond stared at her, and then looked away.  
- No Arien. Now, please, go.-  
She looked at him: coming from the gentle Lord the petition was almost equivalent to a slap in the   
face. But the gentle hands that had healed and held her when crying were tense in his lap, his face   
troubled. And Arien felt the misery radiating from him.  
- My Lord, I am so sorry for what happened to your Lady…- she said, voice quivering a bit at her   
own audacity.- But if she had went oversea, she must be happy in the Blessed lands, and waiting for   
you.-  
Elrond looked at her, and then, suddenly, stood.  
Arien almost fell back.  
- I'm sorry, my Lord, I didn't mean…- she blurted, suddenly afraid, not of Elrond power, not of his   
ring, but cared to have hurt him again. But he neared her, and took her hand.  
- I wasn't thinking in Celebrian, Arien.- he smiled weakly.- But thanks. And I am being very rude.   
Would you like to walk with me?-  
She nodded, amazed for the change. She followed him outside, but he didn't went into the fires or   
the light the elves had lit: he took a long cloak and walked around the camp, where the holly trees   
made dark tents and little patches of snow graced the grass, blue at the moonlight. She hurried   
behind, unminding the cold, following his long strides.  
- So, my Lord… what is troubling you so?- she asked, her breath mist in the night.  
- Ah, Arien.- he sighed, a beginning of smile on his voice.- Relentless as only a messenger can be.-  
- I'm sorry for my bluntness, my lord…-  
- It has been my moping around so obvious?-  
She laughed, and he chuckled at his own joke.  
- Well, I haven't be so much at your side this previous three days…-  
- I'm sorry to have neglected you. I had things to consider.- he added, voice low.  
- My Lord…- she was at loss for words. They had found a spot where the tree trees made a   
triangle, their branches intertwined making for them a perfect frame to the moon. In that shadow,   
Elrond eyes were almost white, his hair black as night. He threw his hood back, and stood, bathed by   
moonlight, face up as to receive a kiss, the moonlight cascading over him like a caress he needed,   
warm whiteness to fade away his worry. Arien stood, mesmerized by the breathtaking sight.   
- Arien…-  
- My Lord?-  
- Sing something for me, please?-  
She leaned in a trunk, in the shadows, and her gaze grew dark as she sung, voice quivering slightly.  
  
That I want to fall from the stars  
Straight in to your arms  
I feel love  
I hope you comprehend  
Since the many hearts you've broken  
A lover's word standing in the maybe  
So many words we have left unspoken  
This silent voices is driving me crazy  
After all the pain you caused me  
Even if nothing was your intention  
You never knew how much you hurt me  
Say, can't you see  
That I want to fall from the stars  
Straight in to your arms  
I feel love  
I hope you comprehend…  
  
Her voice faded, the melody still in the air. Elrond let his head fell again, and looked at her, there   
standing in the light, she in the shadows. A long silence stretched between them, as the wind died,   
leaving all still and expectant…  
- Why you do this to me, Arien of Gondor, messenger of Isengard?- he said suddenly, a furious   
whisper that started Arien out of the warm shadows like a shot of snow. she took a step back   
against the rough trunk, but Elrond, face now serious and tense, strode to her, cloak heavily moving   
around him.  
She gasped, and found herself staring to white gray eyes, now not a trace of the warm, detached   
nobility of the Peredhil son of stars, the Elven Lord of Imladris. She was watching right into the eyes   
of a Man, king of Men, and she was caught.  
Elrond kissed her, bending his proud head like a drowning man, dark red mantle enveloping her into a   
world of heat and softness. Arien almost lost foot, arms molding her into another body, fingers   
intertwining in her hair, tilting her head so no recess of her mouth was forgotten, a onslaught so   
powerful into her senses that her eyes were closed like by another will. A knee went between hers,   
trapping her effectively: a hand that was powerful as steel drove down her back, magic that now not   
healed but awoke every nerve, flooding from those fingers. Arien threw her head back, no air in her   
lungs, lost in the embrace of something unstoppable.  
- My Lord…- she whispered.- No…-  
The red jewel she wore always between her breasts, under the tunic, was pressed against her skin,   
hurting.  
- No Peredhil had even been happy with an elf, my messenger.- he hissed, anger and bitterness in   
his voice.- We are so few… we are always alone and lost…-  
- My Lord…-  
- Few had found the happiness, Arien. Luthien and Idril… Beren and Tuor… their happiness cursed   
us with a doom that goes beyond the waning. Elros suffered missing the Fair race in his heart,   
ashamed of it, as I miss my Human kind too. But just Elrond and Elwing, my parents, two Peredhils,   
could really love each other… Dior, Half Elven as me, suffered his destiny, unloved by Fair Nimloth   
till his death… as I suffered mine with poor Celebrian, till she hated me…-  
- My Lord, no…-  
- She hated me, Arien. She never could understand… she never could accept the Man in me, she,   
The Lady of Lorien, daughter of the highest elves… and she left, hating me, the stained elf, the   
incomplete man…-  
The moon had left: the shadows enveloped them, Elrond's angry, hurt whisper, Arien's breathing   
uneven, pained by his pressure, sound loud as harsh.  
- What is with you, that turns me into a man? I had forgotten. I was waning… I was waning like an   
elf, with no pain…-  
- My Lord, I've never…-  
- It's the distant blood of Elros in the Númenoreans? Is that it, Arien, what calls me to you so   
strongly?-  
- Please… let me go, my Lord…-  
A silence.  
A hiss.  
- Like hell I'm going to let go my last chance at love, Arien.-  
He was in her again, kissing her with strength unknown to elves, powerful and dark. And she was   
beginning to answer in kind, when a shout broke them apart.  
The sound of a horn.  
- Elladan!- he whispered, running back to the camp.  
  
- Kobolds!-   
The torches of the camp flared: the bows sung. In circle around the tents, Elrond people defended   
themselves against the onslaught of ugly creatures, dark tall beasts that brandished swords and axes   
with unstoppable strength. Defying arrows, Glorfindel was standing over a rock, his sword slaying   
any one who dared to come to close to the tight circle of light. Elladan was in the vanguard, his blade   
singing in the air in each passing moment, a torch in his left hand putting the kobolds nearby in   
flames, his face in a grin. Elrohir was back with the archers, guiding them, his clear voice giving the   
orders of Hado I philinn! (Fire the arrows!), his own bow glistening at the firelight.  
Elrond stood, disarmed, watching the battle rage, Arien by his side, eyes narrowed. He extended a   
hand to quiet her, and closed his eyes for a while. And then, just after an arrow discharge made the   
kobolds to recoil, he took her hand and bolted to the camp, as in the same moment Elrohir and   
Elladan turned to stare to him directly, just like they had heard a muted call.  
Arien, unbelievingly, saw Elrond go against the kobold's back, barehanded, pulling her with him.  
Something in the light, whirling.  
Elrond caught it in mid-flew: his sword, sent flying by Glorfindel's powerful hand. And he opened the   
way, as Arien caught a fallen kobold's knife, and they went over the unprotected backs of the   
kobolds.  
And they made through, quick and swift, into the barrier of dark, stinky bodies and splashing blood,   
to finally get into the circle of light, Elladan and Elrohir receiving them with open arms.  
- Down!- Glorfindel shouted, and Elrond covered Arien's with his body in a heap of red mantle as   
the arrows flew over their heads. Arien went for Culmoth, as Elrond's Ilmluin gleamin in his hand.   
- FIGHT!- Elrond bellowed.- ELBERETH!-  
The swords of Rivendel bared naked and white at once at the call of their master, the warriors   
followed the Lord and his sons into body-to-body battle, the fires in the camp burning brighter, like a   
circle of fire. Engaged in the fight, elves shining like beacons of light, they charged. Glorfindel fought   
back to back to his Master: Arien found comprised between fiery Elladan and skilled Elrohir, the   
knife still in her left hand, her eyes glistening in a intense pale fire.  
It were so many, so many, that killing two only made four to occupy their place. But they fought for   
what seemed hours, sweat in their foreheads, till a shout broke the unending song of steel and flesh:  
- DUNEDAIN!-  
- ELENDIL!-  
  
Estel was beyond pissed, as they finally were able to reunite in the roof that served as hall. Elladan   
was cursing as hell in the infirmary tent, being treated, because an arrow had pierced him through   
the thigh like a knife in butted. Elrohir was covered in bruises, his pale face red from the scratches,   
and Elrond had both hands covered with dried, matted blood from his hurt knuckles.  
- You should have told me, Adar!- he growled. Halbarad, Estel's second and best friend risked a   
glance to Arien, and lifted his eyebrows in uncomfortable companionship. It wasn't a pleasure   
seeing them two fight: Elrond grew cold and aloof, eyes like distant gray glaciers, as Estel exploded   
in fire and passion. And now, Estel walked like an infuriated tiger, Elrond comfortably sat, nursing   
his hurt fingers, his cold eyes narrowed.  
- If we haven't come…-  
- My people would have dispatched them, Estel.- Elrond eyed his foster son, facing him with the   
unbreakable reserve of the Elves: but in the bottom there was a dangerous flame.   
- Father, how are you going to attack Dol Guldor with only thirty bows? You'll be massacred!   
Where's Mithrandir? And surely the Lady of Lorien can't agree…-  
- Estel?- Elrond was looking slightly murderous.- Would you SHUT YOUR MOUTH?-  
The roar quieted Eregion in miles around. Estel stood there, gaping, as Elrond loomed dangerously   
close.  
- Go to Rivendel. Arwen is alone there. And I would like to know she is protected.-  
Estel's young face lit, and it was funny how he tried to stay stern.  
- But I would prefer to go to the war, Adar!- he wailed, pacing.- My Dunedain…-  
- I know, son.- Elrond was massaging his temples.- And no need to shout at me. You ride very   
quickly in Roheryn: so go to Rivendel, and then back to Dol Guldor if that's your desire. There it   
would be enough battle for everybody. But…- his voice dropped, and he shed the anger to a tired   
mischief.-… I can't help but to be worried for my daughter's safety. If the dark beasts managed to   
cross the Misty Mountains, they could attack Rivendel…- he let that thought trail off. Halbarad was   
trying his best to hide a smirk.  
- I'll go and protect her, Father.- said Estel, eyes shiny.  
- Thank you, son.- Elrond had barely dispatched him and Estel was already calling out his Dunedain   
to ride into Rivendel, to protect the valley. And Elrohir had the decency to wait for him to disappear   
before to start a fit of giggles.  
- All hail Lord Elrond, master of wisdom.- he mock praised, grinning.- Dad, Arwen isn't in danger,   
isn't it?-  
- No.- Elrond said, serving himself a glass of aromatic wine.- and if any dark creature manages to   
cross the Misty Mountains in middle winter, let them to conquer Rivendel, if they have any strength   
left.- he added, smiling evilly.  
- But the Dunedain, even if they are few, would do good in a battle.- said Glorfindel, entering to the   
roof to grab a bite, still standing, smelling foul from the crematory pyres where they were   
dispatching the kobold's fallen.  
- They would, indeed.- Elrond looked at him gravely.- But this is not the Last Alliance. We'll trust in   
magic and in the Valar: hope Arda's power in Dol Guldur, a place that is not evil, would be enough.-   
he sighed.- And if we fail, no amount of swords or warriors would be enough. the time of swords   
will come, my heart says, but not now. And Estel would be need, but when he'll be ready. Till them,   
I want him safe.-  
- Your foster son, Lord Estel, is the Dunedain Captain?- Arien's voice startled them: they had   
forgotten the Lady, face clean and pale but covered in scratches, his warm black tunic matted with   
dried blood, a dark bruise over her naked shoulder, where the tunic had been cut in a kobold's   
attempt to behead her.  
And a bruise in her soft lips that hadn't anything to do with the improptu battle.  
Elrond stared at her a second. And then, he said, voice gentle and calm, but still hoarse for all the   
shouting.  
- Elrohir, Glorfindel, please go to direct the cleaning. I have to talk to Arien, alone.-  
The teacher and the young lord shared a look, nodded, and sauntered out the room smirking. But   
Arien was nowhere near as cheerful as she neared Elrond, whom was standing there in his dirty   
mantle, a glass in hand, his eyes troubled and serious.  
But it was the Lord Elrond again, no traces of the wild Human warrior there. He smiled sadly, and   
patted the bench where he sat.  
- Please, come and sit with me, Arien. I would not try to attack you again, I swear.- he added. Arien   
sat with her hurt fingers hiding themselves in the long sleeves of her tunic, and looked at the Lord,   
whom was staring back with sorrow in his face.  
- I offer you my deepest apologies, my lady. No inner turmoil excuses what I done to you… I   
attacked you like a beast and I am deeply ashamed of myself. No Lord worthy of that name would   
have insulted you like that. I can only beg for your forgiveness, and assure you I would never indulge   
again in such a criminal moment of foolishness.-  
- There's nothing to forgive, my Lord.- she said, voice quivering a little.  
He slowly took her hurt hand into his own hurt ones. It was warm again, but felt detached, as   
healing powers flowed in, calming the pain from the bruises.  
- Yes, there is, and can only hope you would forgive me some day, my dear Arien.-  
She nodded, numbly. The red stone hanging from her neck had escaped from the fabric, and hanged   
out, over her heart, catching the light.  
- My Lord…-  
- Yes, my dear child?-  
- What you did told me was… historical?-  
- What?-  
- About Dior Eluchil and his wife Nimloth…?-  
Elrond blinked.   
-… Well, yes. My mother inherited me the diary of her father… a sad story, really.-  
- But… your mother was really Peredhil? Lady Elwing the White wasn't only one quarter of   
Human?-  
- Anyone with a drop of human blood in his vein is Peredhil.- Elrond said matter of factly.  
- And in the reverse case?-  
- Arien, do you think this is the moment for this conversation?-  
She blushed.  
- I'm sorry my Lord. I got carried away.-  
- Sometimes you get scary with your hobbies.- he sighed affectionately.- Valandil was like that with   
his coin collection. Your race is so funny sometimes.-   
The remark turned Arien's eyes somber, so much that Elrond's smile faltered.  
- Arien…?-  
- I'll go to rest, my Lord. When we will get into the travel again?-  
- No sooner that noon.- Elrond answered.- Arien…-  
- I'm sorry about your lady, my lord.-  
- She found rest, and is happy now.- he said calmly.  
- I meant… what you did say.-  
- Oh.- Elrond stood, and helped himself to the wine.- It happened long ago.-  
It was a silence.  
- Yes, it happened long ago, in a man's years.- Her voice stood in the air like a sudden rain scent.   
But Arien was gone when he whirled around, glass in hand. The red wine spilled over the rough   
table, and Elrond meet his own eyes in the mess. It looked like blood, and suddenly, Elrond felt a   
wave of nausea.  
Elbereth, lady of Stars, its amused you driving me crazy?   
  
Stars  
© Simply Red. 


	7. Into The Misty Mountains- White Dove

Twelve Songs In Rivendel.  
An Elrond Romance   
by The Fox.  
  
Chapter Seven  
Into The Misty Mountains  
White Dove  
  
The rain started to fall that afternoon like a curse, hard and cold, rivulets of silver crossing their path   
through the high, dark green grass. They hurried, and rode till midnight, a silent caravan of wet   
horses and riders, unstoppable, like a quick stream of silver in the night.   
The moon, Isil, was in his zenith when they arrived to the lower feet of the Misty Mountains. The   
vegetation was harder and rougher, but Glorfindel found a nice, cozy nearly dry clearing between the   
pines where they could set scented, warm beds. They could heard the rain outside, splashing their   
tents, but it was warm there, as they made fire and settled to rest after the wild ride.  
Elrond left them, enveloped in a cloak no distinguishable from the one of an archer's, and walked   
into the glistening rain. The Misty Mountains now truly deserved their name, even the dark green   
roots covered in gray, the night so dark that even him didn't dare to go too far. But in the impending   
rain, that soon became a waterfall, he found solace, and peace.  
I must be losing my mind.  
Even is not so far away a guess, it would be the same, even sadder to fail a second time.  
I gave everything in my hand to make Celebrian happy: I denied every Human impulse, I lied   
even myself through unaccountable long, gray days. But she saw through, and hated me for   
the love I wasn't able to give.  
What is in human beings that call so strongly to the Peredhil's heart? I used to tongue-lash   
Arwen for her love for Estel, and now I'm fallen too. It is possible that third octaves of   
Human Blood in me, that three accursed parts in sixteen parts in her stronger that the Elven   
rest? We grew, and I raised her like an Elf, surrounded by elves, as I grew between Maglor's   
people. But the smile of a human being is enough to make us fall. Do we really miss that so   
much?  
Elros, why did you leave me? Why aren't you here, with me, to share this with me? Is this your   
perverse way to make understand I was the wrong one?  
And they called me the wise.  
I can't afford to hurt her.  
I can't afford to get myself hurt again.  
I simply can't fall in love with Saruman's messenger, if what I suspect about him is true.  
I can't afford to fall in love. I can't loose control again, not now, not ever again.  
The rain kept falling heavily, the scent of pines enveloping the lord, whom threw his hood back, and   
let the teardrops of sky to pearl his dark hair with glistening jewels. The ring in his hand glistened,   
and he concentrated, praying the clouds to go away. If they're going to escalate the Celebdil's   
Sanctuary, the needed the blessing of Arien, Maia of sun…  
He chuckled.  
This is cruel. I can't escape from your orange-sunset locks, it seems, my cheerful messenger?  
- I'm sorry. I didn't thought my father would do that to you.-  
Arien sputtered, and then choked in her soup. Elrohir was patting her back, worry in his eyes.  
- Are you well?-  
- choke *wheeze * * cough *… yes…-  
- I'm sorry my father was rude to you. I saw him apologizing, and for that he must have been   
specially scalding. I'm so sorry, Arien.-  
Arien breathed, finally.- Oh, no. The Lord just apologized for his… mood. I fear he's confronting   
great turmoil.-  
- Hm.- Elrohir sat by her, his soup plate in hand, the both enjoying the rain outside the tent roof, and   
the nearness of a cozy fire the elves had made for them, spraying warm and soft shadows.  
He took a sip, and then crossed his long legs, black braid falling over his shoulder.- What is it?-  
Arien dropped her gaze, and saw she had left her pendant out her shirt again. Blushing, she lent it to   
Elrohir, whom stared at it admiratively.  
- A family relic. My one heritage, in fact.- she said, smiling.- It seems bit of an elvish work, isn't it?-  
- Yes, but not Eregion or Lindon.- Elrohir smiled back.- It seems very antique. Did you ask father?   
He is a sucker for old craftsmanship…-  
- No, he said it was old and that was all. I often wondered where it comes from.-  
- It must be a interesting story. It reminds me a bit of the craftsmanship of the Barahir's ring.- he   
added pensively.  
- The Beren family's ring?-  
Elrohir laughed.- Father said you were proficient in elven history, but that was impressive.-  
She blushed, and avoided his gaze, a gaze that was not gray and piercing as Elrond's stare, but   
golden, coming in warm waves directly from Lorien.  
- Do you know where it is? The ring, I mean. It was such a legendary treasure of Gondor, as must   
be of your family, having passed from Beren to Lúthien and…-  
- I've only saw drawings.- said Elrohir, quickly. Maybe a bit too quickly.  
How much does she know about Estel?It would be right for her to know about Estel's   
existence or lineage, being her a messenger from Gondor and Isengard?  
He returned the ruby, to look out the roof in shock. It was no more rain drummies.  
- It has stopped to rain.- she said, bewildered. Last time she looked, the sky was black as the devil,   
starless, and moonless. But know the dawn was pink and golden and blue, making the mist around   
the camp a poem of color. They peeked outside the covering of the pines, Elladan blinking as an owl   
out of his tent at the same time, stern Glorfindel looking up from his perch in a rock where he did the   
watching duties.  
Just out the canopy of trees, Elrond was standing over a rock, leather cloak discarded, moist with   
dew, his arms raised to hail the new sun. The wind was blowing, taking the clouds far away into the   
south, revealing a wonderful, clear dawn, over their land covered with mist, patches of snow   
becoming melted gold. There was silence in the camp as Vilya shone blue, and Elrond, his hair wild   
in the wind, his red mantle whirling savagely, finally turned to them, and smiled, his gaze kind. The   
wind still flew, and the sun shone over his shoulder as he stepped down from the rock and put his   
wild hair behind a pointed ear.  
He smiled, and Arien felt his knees went to water.  
And the clouds relented finally his claw in the silver Celebdil, leaving him naked, glistening at the   
brilliant and cold dawn, waiting, half behind his brother, cruel Caradhras.  
- Yes! Let's go!- Elladan cheered, looking the sky turn blue over him with a grin, and then smile to   
Arien.- I'll race you, messenger!-  
- Elladan! Your thigh!- Elrohir said, smiling back to his fiery twin.  
  
The ride was easy till the very feet of the mountains, where the patches of white snow in dark green   
leaves became a white mantle over slippery rocks. They settled the camp there again, and prepared   
to stay the night: next day, the Mid-Winter day, Elrond would climb till the Celebdil's sanctuary over   
the snow, a half-day long climb.   
Glorfindel was looking with distaste the white mantle of snow under the blue sky.   
- It's will not an easy climb, my Lord.-  
- I know.- Elrond sighed. In this age nothing is ever easy.  
They were having a late lunch at middle afternoon, sat in a table the Rivendel' servants had set,   
between four gleaming charcoal braziers. Elrond was in an end, Glorfindel in the other, and Elladan   
sat munching his bread smugly as Elrohir and Arien sat at the opposite side, listening intently to the   
conversation.  
- I don't like to split our forces. We don't know if kobolds or any other dark creature can attack.-  
- With this weather? They would be mad to try to climb over that snow.-  
- That, my Lord, it's precisely my point.-  
- Glorfindel, I have to do this and that's the end of the discussion. You will stay here with the people:   
I'll go up, alone.-  
- No way in hell.- Elladan piped in, as he ate wholeheartedly.- Dad, you aren't going up there alone.   
We, your mighty sons, would go with you, to protect you!- he finished, with a healthy swing of his   
glass.  
- Elladan…-  
- Isn't so, Elrohir?.-  
- * sigh * I supposse…-  
- That's the spirit!- Elladan refilled his glass.  
- Elladan you… at this pace, you aren't going to be * sober * enough to go.-  
- Elrohir! How you dare!-  
- Don't shout at me!-  
- ELROHIR!-  
- ELLADAN!-  
- BOYS!-  
- DON'T * BOYS !* US, GLORFINDEL!-  
Elrond groaned and risked a glance to Arien, who was doing her best to hold back her grin as she   
sipped her soup.  
- I will climb tomorrow at morning. I need to be there at sunset, at the Solstice itself.-  
- Is that the moment the Lady and Mithrandir will act?- Glorfindel tone was one of distrust.  
- And Saruman too, I hope.- Elrond looked at Arien again, but she had her gaze now lost in the close   
heights of the Mountains.  
- Arien?-  
- I'm sure he would do his part admirably, my Lord.- she said, but her voice was devoid of   
warmness.   
- Arien?-  
- Yes, my Lord?-  
-… your glass has tipped.- Elrond said, gently. Just then Arien realized the large, wet red stain in her   
white sleeve, and Elladan looked down to the glass he had knocked down.  
- Oops.-  
* laughter*   
- So, no chance of song tonight?- Elladan looked contrite.  
She smiled, and her spirit came back from the mountains.- Of course, my Lord.-  
  
Deals of passions come to deliver us  
Even the sorrow runs to silver dust  
I can recall the falls of the lonely hearts  
Betraying love and walls of fear  
  
When you cry all tears are stolen  
As I whisper golden omens  
When the world is so far apart  
We listen for voices in our hearts and touch  
If we know love will show  
How I care  
Why we love, be loved  
  
Elrond didn't join them by the fire that night. But he could clearly hear the song, and that kept him   
sleepless for more than what he needed.  
Elbereth.  
Help me.  
  
- What in MID EARTH do you think you're going?!-  
Arien blinked. Elrond was walking, as lightly as any elf, over the snow, as Elladan with a headache   
and Elrohir full of mirth about that strode behind, their feet just barely gracing the snow too. And   
Elrond, in the brisk, shining morning had turned, to see Arien strolling behind them with quick steps,   
cheerfully carrying a little bag and a cloak, jumping agile form rock to rock.  
- Well… I am supposed to be by your side, my Lord.- she said, a smirk in her face.  
- You didn't ask.- he growled, almost knocking over his sons in his haste to get to her level, mantle   
weaving in his quick strode. They had to shout, not by fury, but because the wind was still strong in   
the morning.  
- I didn't think it was to be discussed!- she whined, but there was a smile in her eyes.- Saruman the   
White asked me to do it, my Lord: I can't disobey him!-  
- But you'll have harder time than us climbing, and I can get late.- Elrond said, not caring he was   
being very little gentle. But she smirked, and confronted his dark stare with a movement of her   
shoulders, to accommodate her bag.  
- I can manage.-  
Elrond, very un-elfishly, snorted.  
It wasn't an easy climb, even for the elves's light feet. They walked over the Silver Celebdil, the sun   
getting up, over their eyes, as the sky blue and white blurred the white horizon. Elladan went up with   
unbreakable will, but there was sweat in his brow: Elrond, his robe taut with the wind, making   
rivulets of red where the snow became lighter, walked silently by them, leading the way. Elrohir   
followed them, visibly tired, but standing tall, and Arien hurried behind them, with surprising   
efficiency. They finally found an ice field, and carefully threaded his way over them to two pillars   
embroidered with silver, gleaming in the sun just past noon.  
- Have we arrived?- Elrohir coughed, dusted with snow from head to toe after a fall.   
- We are in The Pillars now.- Elrond's voice was tinged with faint sadness.   
- Really.- Elladan seemed very unimpressed.- Fancy name. Wouldn't I guess why.-  
- Elladan.- Elrond lifted a hand, and mouthed something at the pillars covered with snow and ice,   
blocking the path. immediately water started to flow, slightly steaming in the cold, and the ice   
between the silver pillars melted. Elrond, seemingly unaware of the water wetting his robe's hem,   
passed the pillars, and began to ascend between the steam into a now revealed long, spiral staircase   
caved in the very same rock.  
- Father!- the twins had trouble to follow the quick steps of his father. Arien followed them, into   
stairs that seemed to have no end. They walked up and upper, in the middle of the caved rocks,   
seeing how the stairs, even dusted with snow, where everywhere clean and complete. They   
followed for what looked like hours, and suddenly, they lost the red-clad figure of Elrond from view.   
The three found strength in fear, and hurried through the stairs, to suddenly…  
They where in a open platform in the very top of the mountain. The sky was open over them, blue   
and immense, darker than in the feet of mountains. And at their feet the MidEarth shone like a   
multicolored dream, the dark blue see in the far west, the golden horizon in the west a promise, a   
dark horizon in the South East like a large stain, a wave of black. Elrond was there, standing in a tall   
pillar that had, too, tiny stairs around encircling it, and he looked with sad eyes into the open, empty   
sea of the West.  
In the pillar it was carved a symbol: the star of Earendil, at the right a wave, at the east a half moon.  
No, thought Arien suddenly. A canopy, The star and the sprinkle.   
Elrond and Elros, the Star Canopy, the Star Sprinkle. Brothers now apart for a destiny wider   
than the world.   
- Welcome to the Sanctuary of Celebdil.- Elrond's voice seemed too faraway, in the wild wind at   
that heights. Too close, too real for confort it was the Red Caradhras, as the clouds of the mountains   
covered their vision of anything close. They only can look into the far, and they could see like a   
sparkling jewel at the west, a emerald set in diamonds and sapphires, Rivendel, the valley circled by   
the brilliant Bruinen and the white hills. And at the east, a shining golden ring that sparkled like a   
golden leave in dark water, Lorien, where a light like a beacon surrendered the land nearby.  
It was no snow in the Sanctuary, even if there's plenty around. The carving looked so old, the rocks   
smoothed by the elements, but it was younger that Elrond, and he stood alone, eyes lost in the west   
for a while, apart from them. And he looked apart from them, even from their sons, from Arien. As   
the wind enveloped him, they had fear from him, for the sadness in his eyes.  
- Elros. Meldir…Im mîl le…Namarie…- (Elros, brother, I love thee…Goodbye…)   
Elrond dried a tear, and suddenly, found Arien in his side, as he heard the chatter of his sons,   
discussing if they could or not see Arwen's red dress in the valley from there.  
- Arien?-  
She looked intently to the west horizon, golden line over the immense sea.  
- Can we see Valinor from here, my Lord? Tol Eressea, maybe?- Elrond chuckled.  
- No, my dear. Not even with a tower ten times higher. The Valar had put a veil between them and   
the world: no new Earendil will find them again.- he said, a hand mindlessly in her back to stead her.   
The height was frightening, but the clouds around made the illusion to be safe.  
- Oh.- her voice was that of a reprimanded child.   
Elrond smiled, seeing her hair whirl in the wind, the curls in the end like a web of brass hooks.   
I want to reach of and touch them, here. She wasn't looking, and Elrond's hand moved like if its   
own accord. But then a sunray shone in Vilya, and Elrond remembered.  
Far, in the South, they could see the white tower of Isengard, where a wizard was staring.  
Elrond went to the very border of the Sanctuary, and looked to the East, where, deep in the green of   
the unending forest of Mirkwood, a stain grew.  
His gray eyes steeled, and he frowned.   
It is time. NOW.  
  
Sun was setting, red and angry, in the sea horizon, casting the long shadows over the land at   
Elrond's feet, where he faced East valiantly. he Shadows of Mirkwood grew, evil, but alone, as a   
beacon of light grew in Lorien, shining over the whole forest like a candle in a golden-colored lamp,   
till finally the shades of the tree didn't were able to contain it, and it flew to the sky, a golden and   
blue spark, powerful, blinding and gentle. Like lighting in the South, the White tower of Isengard   
glowed in the far, a thin and powerful white line right into the sky.  
Elrond stood alone, in the Sanctuary. Elladan and Elrohir prayed, arms up, silent in the sudden wind,   
together, just behind their parent. And Arien, half forgotten waited in the stairs, half -hidden for a   
pillar, her eyes glowing when Isengard's white power shot in the sky.  
Elrond, very slowly, lifted his hand, and suddenly the wind went mad around them, snow taking fly   
and dancing like silver tiny swans in air so violent and thick like water. Elladan's mane and Elrohir's   
black braids shook crazily, as Elrond's hair whirled, her robe strongly pulled, as Vilya's power   
condensed in a beam of pure blue, crossing the air up, up, till the first star of night, the mighty   
Vingilot.  
- Father...- Elrond pleaded, softly, in Elvish.- Give me strength. Elbereth...- he added, eyes closing.-   
Lend me power.-   
The wind made the snow fall, letting the Sanctuary a snaked as a silver blade. And Arien, trying to   
apart her hair from her eyes, eyes widened, saw the blue light enveloping Elrond, a shining that can   
and wouldn't be denied, as the white and golden beacons seemed to mix in the sky, lightening the   
falling night into a gold and silver day.  
The sun died in blood and fire.  
And in the same moment, a flame exploded in the deep middle of the dark stain of Mirkwood.   
Powerful and strong, it grew, and clean and red as the first, pre fire of the world, suddenly filled the   
night with brilliance.  
Elrond bit his lip and Vilya answered.   
In Lorien, Galadriel closed her eyes, safe and supported by the arms of the powerful, loving   
Celeborn, and Narya filled Lorien with his white-golden power, like the sun itself.  
In Far Isengard, a wizard, white clothes bellowing around him, lifted his staff in his nest of black   
stone, and white light erupted like a waterfall.  
And in the same doors of Dol Guldor, an older, haggard wizard, lifted his own poor, harsh-wood   
staff, and as red light oozed wildly from his hand, cried loudly against the enormous shadow looming   
over him, taller than trees, taller that anything .  
- Back to the Darkness, Shadow! THE MORNING HAS COME!-  
The Darkness shrunk, and growled, and tentacles of darkness moved, trying to hide from the   
enraged Istari in his flew.   
He tested the West: but there was Galadriel and Celeborn and the magical barrier of water that   
Narya erected, whiteness blinding and hurtful.  
He tested the South, but Saruman, staff in hand, white enveloping cold, fought back.  
He tested north, though the Misty Mountains, and there Elrond let out a cry and fell in his knees.  
- Father!-  
The shadow loomed, and Elrond clenched his teeth, hand into a fist, trembling, and keeping Vilya,   
blue barrier of wind, protecting the North and the lands behind him: The Shire, Bree, Fornost, Emyn   
Muil, Mithlond…   
  
And when doves fly I think of love  
As in this world I've learned to see  
Can you believe the sight  
Like doves clear and white  
In full flower  
And we learn to love and be loved  
Molding for one and all for none  
Women who share and men with the care for one world  
Where the white doves can fly  
  
You will not pass there, Sauron. Go Back to the Darkness!  
I don't think so, little Peredhil. Istaris can try to stop me, a Noldor that had seen the Trees   
maybe, but you, weak half-blood?  
Elrond' chin was draw with a drop of blood, his eyes clenched, as he voiced every name in his   
memory, calling each power he possessed, to resist, as the Silver Celebdil's Sanctuary was   
enveloped in the darkness, the stars but for one covered in black clouds.  
Earendil, father of mine, light my way… Elwing my mother, gave me the faith… the blood of   
Beren and Luthien whom met the shadow face to face and won… Idril and Tuor, whom   
crossed the fire and destruction and lived… for the star of my father… for Melian's Circle…   
for the Scarlet Heart of Turgon…  
Red in the night, red at his side, and a surge of power, to revenge.  
Elrond stood, and the wind flapped her hair and mantle. And the shadow recoiled, hurt, scared from   
the hate and power burning in the deepness of those silver eyes.  
- Back to the darkness, shadow of Sauron!- he yelled, Vilya bathing the Mountains in its azure fire.-   
GO BACK!-  
The shadow vanished at the same time Elrond fell, unconscious, in the arms of his sons, like any life   
had vanished in him. Vilya's light faded, and his hand fell in the ground, empty and naked, and where   
the Noldor's spirit had flared, where a High King has been now only remained a tired, spent half-  
elven of sweat soaked black hair, eyes closed, all the pain in the world in his features.  
- Father!-  
- Father!-  
- My Lord!-  
Elrond barely could open his eyes. And he saw Elladan's and Elrohir's scared, tired, gray faces, and   
Arien's, pale with fright, her hands warmly taking his.  
And he saw, through her heavy clothes, a red shining in her bosom, slowly fading, scarlet and heated   
like a living, naked heart.  
The Scarlet Heart heard my praying.  
But how…?  
Elrond closed his eyes, and an incongruent thought came into his mind, before to lose consciousness.  
She didn't leave any mark in the snow.  
Oh, Elbereth, how stupid I've been.   
  
White Dove  
© Tenkuu no Escaflowne 


	8. From Dol Guldur- Who Wants To Live Forev...

Twelve Songs In Rivendel.  
An Elrond Romance   
by The Fox.  
  
Chapter Eight  
From Dol Guldur  
Who Wants To Live Forever  
Early Spring   
  
The winter was gone, and the spring of defeat came bittersweet and slow.  
Elrond was convalescent, a heavy blanket covering his legs as he rested at the warming day in Rivendel's terrace, lulled to   
rest for the soft whispers of the waterfall. Arwen has been desperate when Glorfindel came back with the Lord of Rivendel   
pale and broken, shivering from the incredible waste of life he had given. But gone was the cold: as Rivendel itself, Elrond was   
slowly but securely recuperating, life coming back to his fingertips and eyes as the spring was making the trees blossom and   
the frozen Bruinen ran faster with the security of summer coming.  
Mithrandir had rested in the house, spent too, tired and hurt: but he was in the road again, after promising to be back for the   
Spring Equinox. Elladan and Elrohir, back from the wild battle in Dol Guldur miraculously without a scratch had went again   
with Estel into his North travelling.  
Arien hadn't came back.  
Saruman had failed: the Dark lord now was safely back into Mordor.  
We only bought time. For him or for us, that's still to be seen.  
Elrond slept, and he let his mind indulge in Elven dreams. He thought, and dreamt: and as his spirit was soothed, he exiled any   
worry, to heal.  
Just one.  
The Scarlet Heart.  
  
"And it was like that, that Fingon's heart was stolen and carried to Mordor to be Melkor's toy. But the High king of   
the elves's son, Turgon, Lord of Gondolin, rode to reclaim's his father's heart, and after burying it, it became his   
symbol: the Scarlet Heart, crown of Gondolin, the Secret valley. Turgon had the most powerful artifices working for a   
year, and they finally emerged with a red stone hanging from a magic chain that can pulse and beat next to Turgon's   
own heart. And Turgon made it his token, and only Idril Celebrindal, the wise and fair King's daugther, wore it after..."  
  
Elrond closed the book, and leaned back in his chair.  
Fuck.  
It this what you have searching for, my dear Arien?  
How the hell the Scarlet Heart fell into your family's hands? Are you a descendant of Human Tuor, as I am?  
How?  
I am not fond of unfinished puzzles, my dear Arien. So come back here.  
Now. You called me your Lord: therefore, there's my order.  
COME.  
  
The steps of Elfaroth came lightly in the wind, and Elrond, who was with Arwen in his study, heard them even far away. He   
slowly stood, whispers of silk and velvet around him, and stood in his balcony, looking a rider enveloped in black, over a sable   
stallion, a flag of burning hair pursuing her as she splashed crossing and jumping the tame currents of the Bruinen in her way.   
He smiled, and sighed.  
- Arwen.- he said with a sudden smirk, that he tried his best to keep out of his voice.  
- Yes, father?- Arwen didn't bother in doing the same. She knows I'm smitten, and Elbereth how is she enjoying this.   
Wonder when she would held it as argument in the impending I'm-in-love-with-Estel discussion.  
- Tell the kitchens we have a guest to dinner.-   
- * smiles knowingly * Yes, Father.-  
- And make the guest to come to see me immediately, as soon is arrived.-  
- Yes, Father, I'll lead her to you.-  
- Arwen…-  
- (fading away)… yes?-  
-…do I look good…?-  
- WHAT?-  
- Nothing.-  
  
It was like old times: Arien standing there, letter in hand, a serious expression, black from head to toe, her hair in a bun, and   
the Lord of Rivendel sitting in his semi-circular desk, circlet and mantle exuding authority.   
Wind from the open balcony, making tendrils of black and fire tremble in the hesitating wind, sea of memories.  
Memories of darkness enveloping a passionate embrace, lips upon lips lost in a second: severed flower forgotten in the path   
and ignored. Their eyes met, and she lowered hers.  
- Good afternoon, Lord Elrond. I'm coming with letters from Minas Tirith and Isengard for your Highness.-   
It could have been a slap in the face for the way she recoiled when Elrond's hand caught the hand putting the letters in the   
smooth wooden desk, softly, and stood.  
She looked up, and met his eyes. he was still silent, and suddenly, was pulling her hand to him, so strong and irresistible as   
wind, to trap her in his embrace. The red mantle enveloped her again, and her head rested in Elrond's shoulder, as he   
whispered soothing words that the girl that trembled like a leaf.  
A tear.  
And she flowed from his embrace to fall in a heap at his feet, hair pooling in his shoes, vulnerable nape bared, as her spine   
bent made an arch, and she sobbed uncontrollably.  
- I'm sorry… I didn't knew… I'm so sorry… My Lord, I never knew! You have to believe me! Please, my Lord... I'' so   
sorry...-  
My poor messenger.  
My poor rider. You had risked it all to discover your lord betrayed all of us. We were who trusted in him. But worst of   
it, you, the one that worked, suffered, and stood for him.  
My poor love, I would never blame it on you. He managed to fool all of us: how could I curse you?  
How could you think would do that?   
I am not called wise?   
What are you scared? That he sent you to hurt me, to seduce me, to unbalance me?  
My poor girl, I already knew. Wise as may I be, he is wiser: he is, nonetheless, an Istari.  
He knelt, and collected the sobbing mess of a girl in his arms. His hands soothed like no one else, and never before, since   
Arwen's first knee-skinnings had wanted so much to soothe. Her sobs subsided, and she lifted ashamed, sad pale blue eyes,   
with a hint of amethyst memories there.  
- My Lord, I'm sorry…-  
- How could have you known? – he whispered gently.- But I knew, my angel. Or at least, I suspected as much.-  
Her eyes widened.- You… knew? But I've never…!-  
- I knew as soon as I put my eyes on you why Saruman sent you, from all the messengers. Because he knew I would like you   
so much, that no matter how much I distrusted him, I would continue on receiving you, and he would keep knowing whatever   
I'll do.-  
Her face went pale, and betrayed shame, pain, and horror.  
- I've been… betraying you…-  
- No, Arien, you didn't know!- he added quickly, knowing he had shocked her.- It's all right. Please, Arien, don't cry.- with a   
pattern of soothing words he sat her in an chair, and caressed her now free hair.- Arien…-  
- Yes, my Lord?-  
- Would you answer a question for me please?-  
She nodded, numbly, two red spots in her cheeks betraying her need to cry.  
- Where did your family got the Scarlet Heart Of Turgon's Gondolin?-  
The color left her as loudlessly as the sun leaves the earth. And she stared directly into his eyes, eyes of cloud filling quickly of   
lead.  
- It comes with your family: you told me as much. Why? Do you know? And, Arien, tell me…- his voice dropped, softly.- …   
why you, not being an elf, doesn't leave footprints in the snow as normal men does?-  
She didn't answer, but avoided his gaze. And Elrond took her chin in hand, to force her to look into his eyes, tearing spears into   
hers, fixed and powerful and shocking as a immersion in cold water.  
- Answer me, Arien! Why you long so desperately for Tol Eressea? Why you dare to want to live forever, Human   
woman?-  
She flew. In the way she moved in her mad dash for the exit, Elrond was suddenly remembered of a bird in hurry from the   
hunter.  
The last he saw were her curls, like a hunted fox's tail. And he leaned into his fists in the desk, and smiled, ruefully.  
I almost got you there, cheerful ice barrier melted by your tears and shame. I touched with my fingertips your secret, I   
had your heart in my hand for a second. I saw it in your eyes.   
You don't came here only for letters: not only for my library.  
You came for me, because I'm the Healer. And as much as you want it, in the tip of your fingers, you are afraid.  
I'll heal that hurt in your eyes, my Arien. I am nothing if I am not a healer.  
I am waiting.  
  
- You really, really, really owe me a song.- Arwen pouted, and then smiled. Arien blushed under Elrond's gaze, but it had been   
impossible to slip away or to stay in her room under Arwen's insistence, and now she was sitting between her and Glorfindel,   
who was crossing knowing glances with Elladan, as Elrohir remained impassive.   
Elrond ate calmly, sipping his wine with a half-smug, half relaxed expression their household could interpret very well. Arien   
nodded reluctantly at Arwen's request, and busied herself with her food, some free locks of hair shielding her eyes.  
- I look forward to hear you singing too, my lady. I have almost forgot the last time you sang for me, didn't I?-  
Arien choked in her wine.  
Glorfindel patted her back gently, and shot Elrond a stare of mild disgust.  
Elrond grinned back, his eyes innocent. And Glorfindel couldn't grunt for too much: it has been too long years waiting to see   
the Lord of Imladris smile again.  
- I heard that were some orcs slaying in Fornost, Elladan.- Glorfindel said, eyeing the older twin that was digging his plate   
happily.- It is true?-  
- By yours truly. A large group hurried out of Dol Guldor as soon Dad, Grandma and Mithrandir finished their part. They were   
disorganized, and has been easy to get them. Estel and us did a good hunting: I think I got at least fifty orcs ears for a necklace   
for my pretty sis.-  
- Eww…. Elladan…- grunted Arwen, eyeing her brother, who went along slurping mushrooms ear-sized with all intention.  
- I'm afraid for a while Mirkwood, Rohan, and even the Shire and Fornost would be plagued with orcs and another dark   
creatures. It's inevitable, but i worry for those calm places.- Elrohir said pensatively, warming his wine in hand.  
- But as you said, it's inevitable, so the best we can do is help them dealing with them. – Elrond sais, matter of factly, again a   
serious lord.- But it wouldn't be safe to travel for a while.-he added, looking at Arien intently.  
- It would be hazardous, I think.- Arien said quietly.- But someone has to do it.-  
- You can ride with us to the South. Estel plans to go, and we'll accompany him.- Elladan smiled pleasantly, ognoring his   
father's glare.- And you're one helluva figther, so orcs beware, she'll not be giving away her baggies easily!-  
- Elladan.- sighed Glorfindel, as Arwen and Arien laughed.  
- Why you say my name as it means "shut up"?- he said innocently.  
- Well, it means Men of Stars, but if Dad were really wise he would have named you " Big Bawling Mouth" instead.-  
- Shut up, Lord " I-cry-when- I-lost-my-first-stuffed-bear"-  
- I was seven, Elladan!-   
- You were sevenTEEN, Elrohir!-  
- I didn't!-  
- Yes, you WERE!-  
- No, I DIDN'T!-  
- Elladan, you played with my dolls far more than I.- Arwen, chin in hand, was enjoying the exchange immensely.-  
- I DIDN'T!-  
- Yes you did.-  
- I played with them at the " Last Alliance" game, that's all!-  
- Suuure.-  
Elrond felt a headache coming. Glorfindel was shaking with suppressed laughter, but Arien's eyes, even if she was smiling at   
the trio antics, it was faraway.  
Don't go away. Hear me and stay with me, angel. Don't dwell alone…  
Elrond spoke suddenly, his deep voice for her ears alone.  
- Do you have any sibling? I've told you about my brother.-  
- No, my Lord. They'd died.- she said softly, detachedly.  
  
After the dinner, they moved into the Music hall, the Hall Of Fire. There, Arwen repeated her request, even if Arien seemed   
unsure. Elrond sat and heard them chorus old and new songs with other elves of the household, even a laughing duet Elrohir   
complied to sing with the messenger about how's silly love was. He only listened, not even a time mixing, but he could feel   
Arien's blush everytime she looked at him as he felt the heat of the fireplace in his skin.  
- Arien?-   
All them started: they had forgot totally their presence near the fire, as he had hoped they did. He smiled pleasantly, and then   
said with a calm, relaxed voice:  
- Arien?-  
- Yes, my lord?- her tone was cautious.  
- Have you ever knew a old song of Maglor, that he composed at the death of Celegorm? I would like to hear it.-  
- But it's… kind of sad.- she managued, voice a bit strained.  
- Sing it for me. It was an order. With her eyes in the dancing flames, almost turning those mirrors into the same fire of her   
hair, she sung. Her voice was as sad as the song. And Elrond looked at her, and bit his lip, as he felt the heat of the fire   
melting the ice in his veins.  
  
There's no time for us  
There's no place for us  
What is this thing that builds our dreams and slips away from us?  
Who wants to live forever?  
There's no chance for us  
It's all decided for us  
This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us  
Who wants to live forever?  
Touch my tears with your lips  
Touch my word with your fingertips  
And we can have forever  
And we can love forever  
Forever is ours today  
Who wants to live forever?  
Who waits forever anyway?  
  
Then, the songs were ended. They left the fire to walk into the dream's realm, all but one. And as Elrond rose, he saw she   
going into the terrace.  
He followed, silently.  
- You intended to give a lesson, my Lord.- she said, bitterly. Elrond was surprised at her anger: Arien was the lady that always   
defied him with mirth, never with fury. But her eyes were sad, and desperate, and avoided his.   
The night was almost black in her brilliance, air a translucent alive veil. Elrond walked into the terrace where she stood, eyes   
in the magnificent waterfalls, a long dress Arwen did lent falling around her in heavy velvety soft purple swirls. He stood near   
her, not touching, but as she looked the waterfall, he arched his neck to watch the stars above.  
- No my, dear little one. I only wanted you to know that pain, and how our Elven life had cruel things mortals do not know.-  
- But I know, my Lord.- her voice was fierce, and hurt. Elrond, with surprise looked at her, to see her closing her eyes, tears   
streaking from them into her pale cheeks.   
- Arien…-  
- Please, my lord, don't. I cannot offer the answers you want, my Lord. I do not want.-  
- Arien, I love you dearly, I can't stand seeing you hurting. Tell me. I can help.- Elrond said, unsure of touching her, but pained   
by her obvious distress.- Tell me about Turgon's…-  
- I DON'T WANT!- she yelled suddenly, facing him, eyes large, to suddenly walk into him, making him to retreat into the   
bench, and realizing with a start that he had healed this woman, he had nursed and laughed and talked and fought, kissed and   
embraced, with this woman, and he still didn't know her the slightest yet. Suddenly, he knew why she had traveled the most dangerous trails of Mid Earth and remained unscathed. It was power in her anger. And too, a sense of calm, detached fire and steel.  
- You'll tell me! I'm a descendant from Turgon, you OWE ME.- Elrond ordered, voice thundering. Never ever anyone   
disobeyed him. Never anyone dared too. But Arien stared, and suddenly hissed:  
- I've forgot. I'm a Gondor messenger, and you can't order me nothing, PEREDHIL.-  
Elrond had fought Sauron itself, and the pride of his race, always near surface, emerged.  
- Don't talk to me like that, MORTAL WOMAN.-  
The both glared, eyes meeting others equally hard and unforgiving. But suddenly Elrond's gaze clouded, and he spoke in a   
whisper, shaking his head.  
- I'm sorry. I didn't mean… my anger got the best of me. Arien, I just want to help. I'm not stupid, I know you search   
something, I know you want something, I know you suffers… let me help you and trust me. I know you want something for   
me, and you are just scared to ask. And I need to know why you have one of my family's treasures.-  
Arien's gaze dropped, and Elrond was pained seeing fresh tears.  
- I'm sorry. I just… can't…- she whispered, so much pain in her voice that Elrond's hands twitched, aching to embrace her.  
- Arien, please. If I have to beg… I thought you trusted me.-  
- My Lord, I… her voice dropped.-… I have to go.-  
- No! You can't! Are you going to go back to Saruman's service?-  
- Yes.- her voice quivered.- I serve Gondor too, my Lord. No one leave the White Istari's service just like that. I'll have to carry   
on. I'll have you informed.-  
- Arien, you…- Elrond closed his eyes.- If he suspects of you like a double agent, I don't know what he is capable to do.-  
- I'll go with the risk. I need…- her voice quivered again, and she took a step to the house. But Elrond caught her hand, and   
fathomless steel eyes bored into hers.  
- You need something from him, isn't it? What did he promise you? Tell, me Arien!-  
- He will answer one of my questions, soon.- she answered straightly, voice devoid of emotion.- And then, I'll be free.-  
Free? Why it sounds so ominous?  
I can't let her go.  
I don't want to.  
- Stay here. He will not come here.-  
- No.-  
- Stay here, you obstinate woman! I'll answer your questions!-  
- NO!-  
- WHY!?-  
- You'll hate me…- she whispered finally, before to free her hand roughly. But she couldn't flee this time: Elrond seized her in   
his arms, and kissed her, the fury and pain of the discussion pouring into his kiss, his impotence a living barrier of self-hate and   
exasperation tensing his muscles. And Arien tensed, and fought, but the Lord of Imladris was no more accustomed to be   
yelled at that to be denied, and she trembled in his arms, answering with equal fire and need, and equal desperate insecurity. In   
the obscure, dark terraces, they both embraced and kissed once and again, heart beating frantically, breath short and painful, a   
murmur of a song there.  
I love you. Is crazy, is stupid, is impossible, but I love you, and I'm kissing you, and I'll not let you go. I'll embrace   
you, and I'll know all I've ignored all this years.  
Now I know why I hadn't sail west with my kind before. So easy to be wise, being alone.  
I needed to know love, at least once.  
I needed to be loved and love.  
I've had waited endless years for your kiss. Don't be wretched with them. Give them to me, all of them…  
I've waited so much, frozen, to become a man. So don't take this from me. Don't ride away…   
She ran away. Elrond stood, hand on the bench, Vilya in his hand mocking his desperate need. He knew, without seeing her,   
how she was riding in the night, leaving Rivendel, and him.  
Leaving.  
To Isengard, to danger, maybe death.  
Elrond closed his eyes, and sighed, lips still moist. And looked up to the stars again, into the sky called the clearest of   
MidEarth.  
Elbereth.  
Now I know why Elros did become a Man.   
And there, exhilarating and painful, the sound of the waterfalls falling enveloped him into a vibrant poem of emotion, like he   
had never felt before   
I'm alive, at last.  
It hurts.  
Now I understand Men. Who needs to live forever?  
  
Who wants to live forever?  
© Queen. 


	9. From Lorien- Aniron (here at last!)

An Elrond Romance   
by The Fox.  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Nine  
From Lorien  
Aniron  
MidSpring   
  
The spring had finally pleased all her promises. It were a shining bed of flowers covering in brilliant colors from the   
same steps of Rivendel till the further end of the hills. Vibrant blue, pale lavender, shy pink, blood red, golden yellow, green as   
emeralds bathing everyplace, reflecting in the Bruinen into a magical world of color under pale, sleepy blue sky. The bees   
worked hurriedly with strangely loud bzz: even the butterflies invading Rivendel looked more lively, more bright than the usual.  
And Arwen, Lady of Imladris, had a good idea why this spring looked so brilliant in Rivendel, even with the time strangely cold   
for the end of spring.  
- Father?-  
- Yes, my dear?-  
The books has been forgotten: Arwen didn't complain, knowing how many years they had enslaved his father, even away   
from her. Elrond came from a ride in his white stallion, hair still in disarray, his braids loose and lost, his face colored by the   
exercise, a mysterious smile in his lips, a hidden sadness in his eyes that spoke of life. Arwen felt his hands, cold and harsh   
from the long forgotten reins, taking hers.  
- You're in very good mood since the unfreezing.-   
- Yes.- he nodded, letting his mantle in a chair and going to stand in his balcony, letting the wind play with his hair and clothes   
as it played with the parchment in his desk.  
- Father, where is Arien? Why she hadn't come? Did you two fight?- she spoke softly, even if her eyes where intently in the   
broad shoulders of her father, whom had become very still.   
Elrond slowly turned a strange smile in his face.  
- I do not fight anyone, my dear… except maybe with Estel- he added after a thought.- But I certainly hope she would come   
soon. We had some… unfinished dialogues I would like to finish.- he said coolly.  
I wish, no more tears  
To come soon  
In this night I want you, I need you  
I can unfold my wings  
And flap the best I could  
But I'm still, still for your love.  
- Elrohir, SHUT UP!- he bellowed from his same place, starting Arwen. Elrohir, who had been singing very loudlessly,   
cringed, in the veranda, at the other side of the house.  
Elrond leaned in the balcony after the howl, and passed a hand through his hair with a gesture of exasperation so unlike him, so   
messy and ungraceful, Arwen for a moment stared in disbelief.  
And suddenly, her eyes widening, she recognized that gesture. It was typical from Estel when he was waiting for her to   
appear, a gesture she enjoyed peeping, hidden, giggling as the tiny piece of truly evil girls are.  
He is restless.  
He is… in love with her? Father?   
  
- Oh, come on, 'Wen. You have been reading too much of those lurid elven novels that Mother and Grandma loves so   
much. The day Father get a mistress, I'll gladly eat Estel's boots, and you don't even can describe how's the stink.-  
- Don't you think Father has been lonely too many years now?- Arwen, hidden with them in the terrace as their father enjoyed   
a criminally nice nap at the sunlight chatted excitedly, waving her slim hands in annoyance at her brother's disbelief.  
- I agree with Elladan here, and that's historical.- Elrohir shook her braided head, and smiled, lifting his shoulders in impotent   
nonchalance.- Sis, if Father would like a mistress he surely would look for a elven lady like Mother. Besides, the Caradhras   
mountain looks far more needy than him.-  
- Elrohir! Shame on you!-  
- Yes, I could have lived my entire life without that commentary!-  
- Well, isn't that what we was discussing?-  
- I was talking about the possibility of Father having fell in love with Arien in a romantic way, you sick elf!-  
Elrohir, usually the most shy, looked almost confortable with the subject, while Arwen and Elladan looked at him with a   
mixture of shock and delight in their face.  
- Do you think they had… you know…?-  
- Well, she slid off rather hurriedly last time, isn't it?-  
- Do you think…- Arwen whispered in his pointed ear.- … she doesn't reciprocated his feelings? – she covered her mouth   
with her hands, eyes wide.- that's so awful! that's terrible! How can she not love him back?-  
- Sis, you really need to stop reading those novels.- Elladan was taking the whole thing like a joke, as he ate some grapes.  
- We can't let Father be sad! We have to do something!-  
- Sis, I was only joking. I respect Arien very much, and I don't think she or Father has time to spent in romantic liaisons,   
much less in meaningless sex.-  
Elladan choked.  
Arwen smiled brightly, eyes getting a bit too shiny.  
- But love always will find the way, even in the hardest hearts, you unromantic git!-  
- That's IT! I'M BURNING THOSE NOVELS!-  
After saving her most precious possessions, a stack of famous elven novels her mother had inherited her, Arwen was   
left alone, since her male parentage went into the woods for a hunt.   
Bad idea. Hell has no trouble like that of a mischievous girl with an idee fix.  
Who can help her, and consequently, her father? Who can help her, from all her insensitive bunch of male parentage, would   
help her?  
Arwen giggled suddenly, and went into the study, for parchment.  
Oh, Dear Gradma.  
  
From Galadriel and Celeborn of Doriath, Lady and Lord of Golden Lorien and the Galadh Elves, by hand of   
the Minas Tirith messenger Arien of Gondor, to Elrond, Lord of Imladris, we salute you.  
In the name of Elbereth the bright, and Manwe the wise.  
Suilio. Elu sila a uireb Mae govannen!  
And then, with a very much informal hand after all the traditional salutations in the rolls of parchment, two lines, one with   
winged hand and another heavier with darker ink.  
I dare you.- G  
You owe me.-C  
Elrond left the parchment in the table, no expression in his face, as Arien stood two meters away, in the very door. She had   
her eyes low, her breath still quick for the wild ride of twenty days to get the letter from Lorien to Rivendel through the   
Caradhras pass, quicker than any messenger.  
Fucking Lorien's Lady. You have been mixing in other's people business for so long it comes just like a second nature   
to you, Noldor. Surely she and Celeborn are placing bets and laughing their head off about me.  
And my poor Arien had to come almost killing Elfaroth in her haste to bring to me two lines of mocking. You are lucky   
she doesn't violate your trust, or anyone for that matter: she knows how to read valinorean.  
My poor one. So you dare me, Lady of Lorien? We'll see.  
You are back again, Arien of Gondor, my lady. And you are caught.   
- It was your travel safe? The Misty Mountains are still filled with dark creatures.- he asked calmly, folding the offending   
parchments, his gaze carefully neutral.  
- It was safe, and it's a pleasure to travel in such a marvelous spring.- her tone was careful too, deeply formal, and she kept   
her eyes in the table.  
- Arien, I'm glad you are back.- he added, his voice dropping a note.  
- I can't refuse to the Lorien's Dame petition, my lord.-  
And we can bet she knew it.- So you went into Lorien?-  
- Yes, my Lord.- No other word. She seemed very tense, and Elrond knew that if he made the slightest gesture to start her,   
she will fled again like a scared bird, and wouldn't come back, ever.  
I can't loose the chance you gave me, Lady of Lorien, you peeking grinning old witch.  
But it was so much tension.  
Her hand over her heart. No: over her Scarlet Heart.  
She is afraid I'll ask again.   
Is too hard to understand that I don't want it, but your real, beating one, for myself?  
- Arien…- Bad move: Elrond couldn't keep the longing from his voice. Arien gave a step back, and her eyes betrayed her.  
- FATHER! Mithrandir is here!- Elladan's voice startled them from under Elrond's study balcony, and the both forgot   
momentarily, as Elrohir added:  
- And he is not alone! Lord Gloin and Mr. Baggins came too!-  
Elrond couldn't have asked for a better breaker of tension. Arien seemed to speak Dwarf like a native, and they sat all   
together at the table to dinner. Arwen laughed and blushed at the exaggerate, poetical Dwarf appreciation of her beauty of the   
old Dwarf Lords, Elladan and Elrohir happily chatting about weaponry and craftsmanship with the younger dwarves, and   
Elrond caught in talk with Mithrandir.  
Arien was next to the old hobbit, sat over a bunch of pillows, who was happily munching down food enough for a robust   
warrior.  
- Excuse me, young Lady. I happen to have not caught your name.-  
- Arien Aeglos, messenger of Gondor, Mr. Baggins.-  
- Oh, I'm most pleased.- the hobbit smiled pleasantly, and gave her the saucer plate.- here, test this. It's one of the most   
exquisite things I've tasted. What do you reckon it is?-  
-…- Arien, unsure in the lively chat, took a tiny slice of bread, soaked it in the sauce, and bit it with certain reluctance.- I think   
is white meat and black wine. And a bit of mustard, maybe - she said after a while, recuperating her smile. A culinary chat   
with a hobbit is one of the three or five most relaxing things in the world.   
The old hobbit was enchanting: Arien was positive having seen him in one of her travels, even if she can't remember exactly   
when. He was funny and warm, all white haired, his face notoriously aged from humor and sadness, all together in a wise mix.   
Arien took an instantaneous liking of him, in special when he taught her how to divest expertly a bird from all his flesh with just   
five defiant, skilled knife and fork movements. They chatted together almost all night, with some adds from a very good-  
humored Mithrandir, whose deep laugh rung under the wooden ceilings of the Last Homely House.  
Elrond kept mostly silent, but smiling, feeling Arwen's steady gaze in him. He smiled at her, wandering why his daughter   
watched him with some of grinning anticipation, her marvelous eyes bright.  
- Arien, I expect you to sing something for me tonight! I want a love song. Last time you only sang for father, so you owe   
me!- she piped in suddenly. Bilbo Baggins's face lit, as he looked to Arien, with who had been discussing the pleasures of   
white cream on fish.  
- Do you sing?- he asked, smile wide.- Oh that's a wonderful occurrence! I can write some songs for you, Miss Arien, I have   
a whole stack of it! In fact, in home I barely did any other thing…-  
- And is true what this young Lord tell me?- Lord Gloin, wine coloring his cheeks, roared with expectation in his rumbling   
voice.- So you know how to sing Tell Me Why? The last time I heard that song was by the mighty Thorin Oak Shield, none   
less! You have to let me hear it! It would be a wonderful gift, my lady, worthy of the travel alone from the Lonely Mountain! –  
Great. Thanks, daughter, now it would be ages till this guests tire of her and I get her for me alone.  
Are you trying to make me jealous?  
Isn't supposed I am too wise for that?  
Mithrandir took her arm to escort her to the Fire Hall, followed for the tiny old hobbit, chatting and proposing songs, as Arwen   
walked flanked for two Dwarf Lords praising her grace. They settled by the fireplace, preparing instruments, laughing and   
chatting, before Arien started with the powerful voices of the Dwarves chorusing a version of the Tell me Why. Then Mr.   
Baggins piped in, with some happy, joyful melodies of the Shire than Mithrandir and Arien knew by heart: even Arwen joined   
clapping and singing may I be a fat black rat, but how much I ate. It was a merry reunion as they sang and played, Elrond   
half forgotten in his chair, seeing mirth lit Arwen, Arien, Mithrandir, his son's faces as the firelight.  
Oh, well, seems I'm not that wise.  
Elbereth, I am jealous. Are those dwarves never going to bed? How long they pretend keep my Arien singing for   
*their* enjoyment?  
Elrond chuckled, secretly. So this is jealousy.  
Interesting.  
Even as she sang, voice impossibly perfect, flaming hair escaped from her bun cascading in her shoulders, her eyes gentle,   
making Mithrandir and the hobbit smile in memories of an old, sweet song, Elrond had to refrain himself to not act into his   
sudden desires.  
It was still that sad haunting in her eyes, even if she laughed, clearer when she sung.  
He wanted to take her hand, tell her not to worry, tell her everything would go all right.   
He wanted to make her laugh.  
He wanted to make her sleep.  
He wanted to dance and sing, and to observe her in secret.  
He wanted to kiss her slowly, endlessly, lazily, as only an elf with all the time in the world can.  
And yes, he wanted madly to get her in his arms and make to love to her in a way even men, and let's not mention elves,   
would call barbaric.  
Elrond chuckled to himself, two fingers pressing in his lips.   
Oh my.  
Arwen hushed his brothers out the room as soon as the Dwarf Lords and Mithrandir retired for the night. It was   
almost dawn: it had been at least four hours of songs, and Arien was spent, warming her hands on the fire as Elrond bid his   
guests good night.  
Finally. Thank you Elbereth, I thought they wouldn't go away, ever.  
* chuckle* It seems my so called hospitality had went into vacations, just out of the blue.  
- Arien?-   
He saw her spine to tense again, even if she must be tired. She had freed her long hair a while ago, and it fell in curls, beautiful   
chaos glinting at the firelight. She didn't turn, but nodded: clearly she didn't had heard his loudless steps till he was standing by   
her side.  
Though the window, they could see the night almost ready to leave. It was there, waiting, the bright morning star, alone since   
the moon has long ago set.  
- Yes, my Lord?-  
- You have sung to everyone's wish… except mine.- he said, voice light, as he sat into his favorite chair again, relaxed, staring   
into her profile by the fireplace. She looked sweet and calm after all the laughs, even with that old hurt in the deepness of her   
strange pale blue eyes. She smiled at him, and suddenly he had the vision of both, old, older than time, giving each other that   
same smile that spoke volumes of lost ages. Like two ancient Ents, recognizing each other in a smile, meeting in the lost Tarn-  
Nu- Fuin forest…  
She lowered her eyes.- What can I sing for you, my Lord?-  
- Anything you wish, my dear.- he said, softly, his eyes in hers. She leaned back a chair, and sung for him, old elven words   
coming in her voice like created in that instant. And Elrond's heart started a race of desire and anxiety that was deafening,   
and still…  
Omor henion i dhu Ely siriar, el sila  
Ai, Aniron… Ai, Aniron…  
Tiro! El eria e mor I'lir en el luitha' uren  
Ai! Aniron…  
His heart hurt from so heavy beating, and he contained his breath, as his eyes grew darker. But he didn't moved, and kept   
there, still, eyes burning, as she rose her face, and sung with her eyes in his, so filled with love and denial, and frustrated   
desire, that Elrond's palms moistened where they met the wood of the chair.  
An, Aniron, my love…  
But I will not scare you away again…  
Slowly, tenderly, Elrond extended a hand to her, seeking, not even asking. And like pulled by an invisible thread in the misty   
light of dawn, she crossed the room away from the fireplace, to kneel at his feet, where his robes pooled. She took his warm   
hands with her own cool ones, and let his head rest in chest, with a sigh of contentment, a whisper of defeat.  
Love, what can we do to resist? Who do we think we are, to even try?  
Aniron… I desire you too, my love.   
Tears in his chest. A smile, and a defeated sigh, her eyes brilliant and sad.  
- Lord Saruman answered my question… with the answer I feared the most. I went into Lorien, to ask more… I was so   
desperate… -  
- Ask me, my love.-  
- You'll hate me.-  
- Never.-  
She slowly looked into his eyes, like searching for something. She breathed, and then asked in a whisper, voice uneven:  
- What I am?-   
The sun was chasing the mist of dawn away, everything bright with spring dew, when she ended her story, in   
Rivendel's terrace, the waterfall muffling her tears. And Elrond's eyes remained closed a while, his hand clutching hers.  
She was well over a century of age. That alone was strange enough: but coming from Gondor's Numenoreans blood, it wasn't   
so. But that was just a side of the question.  
Her family had inherited the Scarlet Heart from twelve generations of normal life-spans men. Her siblings had grew old and   
died like normal men at her sight, as her nephews.  
She hadn't aged a day from her maturity.  
She didn't left footprints in the snow or leaves.  
She sung like only an elf could.  
She had dreams, strange dreams, of a lost city in a Valley.   
Just after years of investigations and asking, she managed to know, in Elrond's own library, that Maeglin, the always ill-  
infamous traitor, the dark elf that sold Gondolin to Melkor, into the most horrible crime possible, had a mortal lover, that ran   
away with the Scarlet Heart after Maeglin's death.  
Maeglin betrayed Turgon's Gondolin by desire of his cousin, the beautiful Idril Celebrindal, married to Tuor, parents of the   
Brilliant Earendil, the father of Elrond.  
Elrond, softly, rested his forehead in his folded hands. Arien, standing by the veranda, staring into the waterfalls, looked finally   
spent, no tears, but fear in her face.  
Elrond looked at her, and knew. She is so scared of rejection.   
My love, what I care about your blood? What I care what that bastard Maeglin did?  
- My Lord…- her voice carried him back from his dreams, and he found her looking at him, her hand grasped in front of her.  
There, was the Scarlet Heart of Turgon, shining his perfection in her hands, soft and red. And she knelt by his chair, to stare   
into his eyes with trembling lips.  
- Arien, you…-  
- My Lord, I know this is yours. But it was my one chance to know… who I am. My Lord… my family never choose, no like   
you and your brother did. Please, take the Scarlet Heart that is yours, but tell me…- her voice broke, and wavered, but she   
kept speaking, quietly.- Who I am? Must I sail West? Where I'll go when I die? My Lord, it has been eating me for so long! I   
need to know! You are called the wisest one, tell me, please! –  
- Arien, my dear…- sadness crept into his voice. It was that. She is what I am, a Peredhil. That's why we loved each   
other. we are the same lost souls…  
- I need to know! I feel like an elf here, I feel like a woman in Gondor, but I can't be both! The sea scares me, and   
sometimes I remember places I never have been, song I never heard! Please my Lord, tell me! Would I die? Or I must …   
sail…?  
Elrond slowly pressed the Scarlet Heart into her hand, refusing to take it. and embraced her against his chest, as she sobbed   
all the tension and fear and desire and agony of all those years away.  
You saw your siblings grow old and die as I did with Elros. You feel the distance and closeness mixed to elves and   
men that have burdened me. You tried to be just a mortal woman.  
You are crying all the tears I've kept bottled inside for so long, my love.  
And Elrond enveloped her in his arms, feeling a frightening, exhilarating feeling of freedom. Now he understood why their   
hearts beat so alike. Why he had waited so much to love, and why her eyes resembled his own.   
He felt the spring around them, the waterfalls, the birds. He had her head cradled in his arm, and he was content. Like a rose   
unfolding, he felt his smile blossom.   
At end. And at the same time, it was starting.  
They remained embraced, resting in each other's arms for a long while. They had raced to this moment, to this place, and   
fought for it. It was theirs, exclusively: a second of happiness so pure and strong that's there's no other like it. Elrond's eyes   
wandered into the valley, into the sky, where everything seemed to share his joy.  
Then, they looked each other, and smiled wordlessly, as their embrace become tighter.  
We'll never part. I don't care how, I'll never let you go anywhere, my wandering love.  
- I wish I know, my love. I can't answer your question… is no case like yours, ever, in the ages of ancient elven lore I've   
poured myself in.- Elrond said softly, tenderly. Arien covered her face with her hands, too exhausted to cry, to sad to say   
anything. But Elrond caressed the taut back, the soft long strands, and said in a whisper, smugly near her ear.  
- But I have a good idea about who is the one person in MidEarth able to answer you.-  
She lifted her head, startled, but she couldn't go anywhere: he had taken a long strand of hair and had it firmly trapped around   
his finger.  
He was very serious, even if his eyes danced merrily.   
- Isn't a Human saying that says that when the heads doesn't know what to do, we recur to the arms? – he caressed her   
cheek, and said with simplicity.- My dear, why to ask the Istaris, Galadriel, Celeborn, and even this silly Peredhil when in my   
council you were sitting next the person that make the ships?-  
- The person that… - Arien's eyes widened.- Lord Círdan of the Grey Havens was the Lord Círdan I did met? I thought he   
was a Human Lord!-  
- The beard. I told him countless times to get rid of it. I'll shave him myself for the angst he could have saved you.- Elrond   
chuckled softly, brushing his own shaved chin.- He is very much older than me. He has the privilege to decide who sails or   
not. If you want, I can give you a message for him. The elves of Mithlond don't act with too much of hospitality to strangers. I   
can even ask myself, if you want.-  
- No.- she said, eyes brilliant, a smile in her pale features.- No, I'll ask. But I would thank you for the message. Maybe he   
wouldn't mind so much about my… heritage.-  
- The Noldor have genocide and fratricide to feel shame for. Maeglin's blood was washed so much time ago, my love.- he   
said, calmly. But Arien was full of energy, tense and nervous, and started pacing, as Elrond waited in the chair.  
- I'll go immediately.- she said, her hair whirling each time she turned.- How long is from here to Mithlond, my Lord?-  
- Month in horse. – Elrond stared at her, chin in hand.- Do you want to go immediately? Really?- he said, voice slightly   
miffed.  
She stopped.- I know you can't leave Rivendel, my Lord….-  
- I wasn't talking about that.-  
- So…?-  
Elrond gave her a look, and she faltered, and then smiled, blushing. - I'm sorry.- she said, voice soft.- Of course is so very   
rude from me to rush like that. I'll stay some days…- she ended with a tiny sigh.  
Elrond had enough. He was in his feet in a second, passed her, grabbed a clean piece of parchment and wrote hurriedly with   
his precise writing a few lines in black ink, to then seal it with his ring.  
Arien stared. Elrond put the message in her hand, and glared at her with a smile, a comically miffed sigh in his voice.  
- Get lost. But if you took one more day than the strictly necessary to come back to me, I'll hunt you down like a prey, do you   
hear me?-  
Arien's eyes widened, her smile incredulous and happy. She grabbed the letter, bowed, and ran out.  
- Arien of GONDOR!!- Elrond howled.  
Arien came back in equal quickness, grabbed her forgotten hair tie and black mantle, jumped over Elrond, kissed him with   
stormy, wet emotion, and ran out, her hair trailing behind.  
Elrond laughed out loud, frustrated and amused.  
Oh, hell. I've waited countless years. Two more months wouldn't kill me.  
I love you, messenger. Come back quick and safe. Come back to me with your answer, and we'll sail together to the   
West.  
And we'll be blissful. Forever.  
Elrond was in the balcony, listening.  
The song came as a lament, an half forgotten dream enveloping his air. He tilted his head to the sky, to listen better.  
To not see her figure galloping away.  
To stop the tears from falling from his fathomless eyes.  
Omor henion i dhu Ely siriar,el sila  
Ai, Aniron…  
Tiro! El eria e mor I'lir en el luitha'uren  
Ai! Aniron…  
  
So do I, my love…  
  
Aniron Enya 


	10. From Mithlond- Summer rain

Twelve Nights In Rivendel  
by The Fox.  
  
Chapter Ten   
From Mithlond  
Summer Rain.  
Midsummer Eve   
  
- You WHAT?-  
Círdan of Mithlond, one of the four great Lord of Elves from the First Age took one step back. The Lord of Imladris, youngest   
from the Elven Lords looked positively homicidal, as he leant on his desk, eyes aflame, narrowed into slits. But Círdan of the   
Grey Havens have been warrior and leader, even if not by his choice, and he stood his ground, to glare back to the infuriate   
Peredhil.  
- I told her it was no way she could sail. She was the Human descendant from Maeglin, no less! What did you expected from   
me to do? Embrace her like a sister? She is twelve generations away from his Peredhil status, and besides, if the first of his   
line remained here that indicated he choose Humankind.-  
- She is descendant of the White Lady Aredhel, Círdan. Isn't that enough? She is Peredhil, like me.- Elrond was clearly biting   
his tongue to control himself, but his hand trembled.  
- She can't sail, Elrond. She had barely a drop of Elven blood in her veins, and its Maeglin's, for Valar's sake. If your   
grandparents Tuor and Idril reached Tol Eressea's shores, and are waiting for us, no doubt they would choke her at sight.-  
Círdan's lighter tone didn't help. Elrond whirled, face set in stone, a dangerous glint in his eyes.  
- Are you discussing the rights of the Peredhils to sail? Who will you bane from the ships next, then? Myself? My sons? My   
daughter?-  
- Elrond…- Círdan sighed tiredly, a hand in his white beard.- Why are you so worked up about this girl? She didn't mention   
you in our conversation. Is there something I must know?-  
- Nothing.- Elrond spat, through clenched teeth.- Nothing except that if she doesn't sail with me, I will not set foot in your   
ships, ever.-   
- Elrond!-   
- I will not! – He set his fists in the desk, the muscles of his face taut as strings.- How can you do this to me, Círdan?-  
- Meldir…- softly, the older elf stared to Elrond, and then shook his head, knowingly.- I can't believe it. You fell for one of   
Maeglin's children? Is this poetical justice for the love Idril Celebrindal didn't give to him?-  
- Círdan, I can't care less.- Elrond shut rudely the Ships Lord, eyes dark.  
- Elrond, equally could Estel or the Numeroneans request permission to sail: they came from your brother. But he chose   
mortality, and even if there's a drop of elven blood in them, they have reserved another gift from Iluvatar: the death.-  
Elrond closed his eyes, still burning.  
- No.-  
- Elrond, you know that…-  
- DON'T LECTURE ME, CÍRDAN! -   
- No need to shout.- Círdan's tone, lowered, and the calm, relaxed elf Lord suddenly looked dangerous. - I was gifted with the   
knowing, just by looking a being, to know if it's destined to sail. It was the gift the Valar gave my people, and me. And she is   
not. She would not sail. Period.-  
- I will not be denied, Círdan.-  
- You have a choice between love and twilight, as Luthien showed us.- Círdan said, deliberately. Elrond face hardened, and   
suddenly, he turned, to lean in his window, looking to the sunset outside his window.  
- Where did she went?-  
- No idea. –  
-Did… did she cry?. Did she begged, or…-  
- No. She bowed, and left.-  
Oh, my poor love.  
- How could you…- Elrond's voice dropped. Saruman have been so cruel giving her hopes to then crush her, painfully, with   
the truth.  
It has been almost two months and half, and she hadn't come back. Elrond was beside himself with worry, and was ready to   
please his promise of hunt her when Círdan, as the other great Elven Lords arrived to Rivendell for the Midsummer Eve when   
they feasted together under the clear Rivendell sky, in honor of Varda and Manwe. Círdan had barely time to jump from his   
saddle before to be dragged forcefully into Elrond's private study.  
And his answers didn't were of the Imladris Master's taste.  
- Celebrian is waiting for you, Elrond. Surely you wouldn't dare to be unfaithful.- Círdan said, reproach hidden in his deep   
voice. But Elrond whirled at him like a hurt animal, eyes flashing silver under the curtain of loose black hair.  
- How you dare? You never knew what happened between us. You would never understand me, self-centered accursed elf of   
happy family and loving wife. You don't know what is like to put your heart and soul in a single hope. I was lonely, staring at   
the stars, in a cold bed for ages near a woman who didn't touched me with love even once. She despised me. She simply   
couldn't bear my face after impregnating her, and left our children because she called them tainted with my mortality. How   
you dare to deny me my one chance of love? No one could love like her, Círdan. No one knows what its feels, to be part in   
two…- Elrond's voice dropped, fists trembling. Círdan closed his eyes in defeat, and Elrond left himself to fall in his chair, his   
forehead in his hands, circlet thrown carelessly aside.  
The old Lord put his hand in the shoulder of the younger, and patted it slowly.  
- I'm so sorry, meldir.-  
Elrond sighed.  
- Please, let me alone.-  
- I'll do. But please, your guests are waiting for you.-  
- Get out.-  
  
Each Midsummer Eve, the stars shone brightly over Imladris, in the Hidden Valley, blessing the meeting of the Fair Race, who   
feasted and celebrate in the memory of the times when the elves were at their splendor. There was the Lady Galadriel, fairer   
than any other Noldor except one, and Celeborn, tall and powerful, wise in his forehead, the long silver hair gracefully mixing   
with Galadriel's gold. They, hand in hand, spoke quietly together, the love they had shared through countless moons strong and   
steady like a living flame. There was Círdan of Mithlond, white bead and hair glistening over his dark blue robes, peaceful and   
kind, his eyes of blue crystal penetrating any soul, watching, evaluating. There was Thranduil of Mirkwood, his blond family   
around, his green eyes strong yet gentle in the calm, alive behavior of the Green Elves. There was the Grey Pilgrim,   
Mithrandir, worried eyes in his friend and host, the Peredhil, Lord Elrond, who was clearly miles from there, face carefully   
blank, eyes filled with a desperate sort of sadness. And with him the Peredhils of Imladris: Arwen Undomiel, fair beyond   
words, sat with the youngster elves and Estel, Elrond's foster son, and his brother Elladan and Elrohir, whom chatted ignorant   
of their father's sadness.  
Elrond was alone in the bower, and didn't rise his face even to Mithrandir magnificent fireworks.  
- Elrond, my boy…- Celeborn patted his arm.- What is wrong? Didn't she come?-  
Elrond glared, and the lowered his face.- Lord Celeborn, I owe you one.-  
- Círdan will not let her sail, isn't that?-  
Elrond blinked.- Did you knew…?-  
- Yes, I did. But if love doesn't worth to stay, my boy, what would?- Elrond looked gratefully, with a tiny smile, to the divine   
Lorien lord that for so long and so greatly have loved and have been loved.   
- I'll find her, since tomorrow.- Elrond stated, earning a nod and a smile from the silver haired lord.  
- That's the spirit, my dear one. Now, lift your head and un-wrinkle that forehead. You don't want your lady to find you with a   
face like that.-  
Elrond chuckled, his spirits lifting.   
Celeborn was right. I'll found you, love.  
We have still a long while to live. We'll stay together, and if it required, I'll die by your side like a man.  
It would be sweet, like to sleep…  
  
Elrond shot awake suddenly. The party had ended shortly after the moon's zenith, and he had retired for the night, informing   
Glorfindel he would be gone by dawn, alone. He didn't stay to hear any complain: he simply went to his rooms, and fell in the   
bed, exhausted, just barely managing to take off his mantle and sandals before to indulge into sweet sleep, that have been   
avoiding him for days.  
And he shot awake in the dreamy hour that precede morning, when all was blurry and indisntict, hearing a voice singing at him   
softly, under his window.   
The cool wind of dawn moved his endless white curtains. He walked there, and opened it with a impatient pull, and saw Arien   
there, Staring up to him, singing so softly he barely heard her.  
She was dressed like a elf maiden: long pale dress whirling in the wind, her hair free in the wind, crowned with flowers, pale   
arms naked in the cold, barefoot. Elrond felt his heart skip a beat hearing her song, a need impossible to describe burning in his   
heart as she slowly sang, her eyes unblinking. She seemed determinate, her cheeks blushed, her stare unwavering. Elrond   
extended a hand to her, his breath quick, feeling the emptiness in his arms, and she, agile and skilled, set her toes in the ivy   
curling around the wall and the balcony, and ascended in four defiant, anxious steps.   
She fell into Elrond's arms, and he embraced her tightly, his voice caught.  
- I'm sorry… I'm sorry…- he whispered, feeling her body against his, warmness and trembling invading every fiber of his   
being.   
She tilted her head and kissed him slowly, deeply. And Elrond answered in full force, hungry and through at time, his hands   
lacing upwards in his waist to press her against him.  
- I will not sail without you...- he whispered between kisses, her song in his head.   
She was trembling, and she didn't decline his kisses, stronger and fiercer, and wasn't scarce with hers, her arms twining in   
Elrond's neck like vines.   
It wasn't dawn still, but Elrond could see perfectly their shadows mixed by the last stars in the glassy wooden floor. Slowly he   
made his way to her neck, caressing her nape, letting her feel his moist breath, his steady, healer's hand.   
- My Lord…-  
- Another *lord* and I will spank you.- Elrond chuckled in his ear, breath short.- Tell me what do you want, Arien. Tell what   
do you want from me…-  
- I want your love, my Lord… Elrond… -  
- You will have. But I want your entire being in return, my Arien… all.-  
- Show me how the Elves love, my lord…- Arien gave a startled yip when Elrond, true at his word, pinched her roughly in the   
thigh.  
- I can't.- Elrond said, chuckling, breath hot in her face.- I am not Elf, my Arien. But let's discover how the Peredhils love...-   
  
- Father? Are you in there?- Elladan strode into his father's chambers without even a knock, walk purposeful, riding gear   
stained with dust from where he had been riding all morning.- Are you sick? Arwen is worried. Glorfindel said he has been   
waiting with your horse ready all morning. What is that rumor about you're going into travel…?- Elladan stopped, suddenly.  
His father was in his robe, hair brushed as usual, calmly tying the braids of his hair facing his mirror.  
The bed was a royal mess of white bedding and coverlets.  
- Tell Glorfindel I changed my mind. I will not leave Rivendell. Nor I am sick. I just… overslept.-  
Elladan's eyebrows shot up into his hairline..  
- I will be downstairs in a short while.- Elrond added, voice stern at the unspoken "You what?" in Elladan's expression.- Now,   
kindly let me dress.-   
Elladan hurried outside, amazed at the dangerous but happy mood of his father. He looked… alive. He eyed the door, with a   
funny expression, and then shrugged. Always better than sad benevolence…  
- Is he gone?-  
- Love, you have the most amazing reflexes.- Elrond, letting himself rest in the wooden carved door, smirked eyeing Arien,   
clad in nothing but the white tunic he wore the last night emerge from her hiding place under the bed. – But you didn't have to   
do that, you know. My sons and Arwen would be surely delighted to welcome you.-  
Arien smiled, but it was something in her smile. Elrond neared her, and pulling her arms, embraced her, and watched her at the   
morning light.  
No sadness.  
No hidden suffering.  
No fear.  
Gone, as the snow at the sun.  
But it wa something, still hidden.  
Doubt? Do you dare to doubt my love, my Silmarien, my treasure?  
She tiptoed, and Elrond kissed the daugther of Maeglin with slow tenderness. It was no trace of the two ardent humans in bed   
last night: now it was the kiss a high king of elves would give to his betrothed, chaste and sweet, tenderly powerful, dominance   
tempered by love.  
And Arien threw her head back and smiled as Elrond lost himself in the pale column of her neck, feeling like a human   
adolescent again.  
  
Did anyone know? Elrond didn't know, and couldn't have cared less. He was happy, in the middle of the summer, high   
blue sky painted with white pure clouds in the entire circle of the horizon, like a new Melian's Circle drawn by bliss. The sun   
was deep golden, the light itself seemed clearer and fresher, and the trees sung in the breeze like elven voices.   
He looked the same, but it was light in his eyes.  
Slowly, starlit nights turned brilliant days, and Rivendell answered with shining dawns and perfect sunsets, even with fresh,   
laughing rain in the afternoons. The wind was bolder, and Rivendell grew years in seconds, like the time that had stopped there   
in a blossoming spring had finally reached his summer, the waterfalls exploding in strong torrents and crystal rainbows without   
no shyness, no fear of be too perfect, too bright.  
Elrond's hair in the wind, he laughed, and opened his arms, to the wind, feeling Arien's arms around him like she feared he   
would vanish.  
Mornings were light, blinding blue hours spent between blinding white covers, nested in peace and innocence and slow kisses,   
each day a promise of happiness.  
Afternoons where sun, where they ran and rode, free and powerful, or danced under the rain breathless, singing freely. Elrond   
got to know each tone, each vibration of Arien's magical voice, head nested in her chest, making her sing even in his arms,   
even when they were one, and felt the bliss almost menacing his sanity hearing her voice uniquely for him, expressing her love   
in thousand inflections. She wasn't the eloquent lord he was, mouthing each sunset when their hair mixed like the sun   
embraced the night all the words of love in all the idioms that had been spoken in the Middle Earth, ever. She expressed her   
love in songs, in caresses, in long hours when his gaze tied hers and they stood quietly.   
And nights were a dark mantle enveloping them, the darkness in Elrond's hair like a veil between them and the world as they   
explored their love under the stars, free as the first elf that opened bewildered eyes, naked under the silver gaze of Elbereth.   
Elrond called her name, lost in the threads of passion, his eyes falling closed when the zenith of his passion took him into the   
stars and beyond, and slept with the dreams of the ones who know only happiness was beyond the dreams barrier.  
A dream dreamed by a rose  
No more tears  
No more fear  
You're in my arms, here with me…   
She sung, and he dreamed.  
He dreamed of hope, and love, and of the destiny of the men, and he didn't even flinch in his dream.  
I will die with you, my love.  
But first of all, we will live.  
Elrond kissed her lips, asleep. And she answered, and with tears in her eyes, she left with the summer.  
You will not die.  
You must live forever, my love. I will not burden you.  
Namarie…  
In his dreams, he heard her singing, and he wetted his pillow with tears.  
No…Silmarien, my silmaril…  
  
Oh my love, it's you that I dream of  
Oh my love since that day,  
Somewhere in my heart I'm always dancing with you in the summer rain  
Doesn't matter what I do now, doesn't matter what I say  
Somewhere in my heart I'm always dancing with you in the summer rain  
  
In the first cold morning, he whispered, feeling the chill biting his skin, a red jewel hanging from his hand.  
I don't want this heart of stone. I want yours, beating, alive one…  
And the wind became the most terrible storm.  
  
Summer Rain © Belinda Carlisle 


	11. From Minas Morgul- Tears on Heaven

An Elrond Romance   
by The Fox.  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Eleven  
From Minas Morgul  
Tears on Heaven.  
End of Autumn   
  
It was Mithrandir who rescued her finally from torture.  
It was autumn, the frosty bite staying in each maple, naked tree, when Elrond finally took a hand too thin in his, and stared into   
lifeless closed eyes. She was sprawled there in the same white bed, where he had loved that same body that now was   
consumed under the Shadow for the last time. He took off his circlet, bent his proud head, and stared, all day, all night.  
He had frozen with Rivendell in the cruel winter coming. He had never looked more insular, more aloof, lonelier, with that kind   
of gentle look that only really lonely people can get.  
It was so cold around him.  
Slowly, he touched with soft fingertips, elven fingertips, her forehead.  
Mithrandir put slowly a hand in his shoulder.  
- She was doing an errand for Denethor, I think. They caught her in Ithilien, and were carrying her into Mordor. Aragorn and I   
were in our way, and when I saw her…- his voice trailed off.   
- Nazgul.- Elrond spoke, slowly.  
- Yes. Four, I think.-  
Elrond's hand trembled, and pulled into fists: but then relaxed, and touched softly the lifeless hand in his.  
- I told her the last time, that if she walked again into the Shadow, even me will be unable to save her.- he said calmly.  
- Such a beautiful lady.- Mithrandir said, old eyes sad.- Let me help. We can't let her die.-  
Elrond stood, back to the quiet figure in the bed and to the Istari, who slowly, tenderly, with a hand callous from work but soft   
enough to play with children was brushing back her hair from her forehead.- My tiny girl, don't go…-  
- She wants to, Mithrandir. And if she wants it, I don't see why to stop her.- said Elrond, coldly. Mithrandir rose disbelieving,   
enraged eyes, to the taut back of the lord of Imladris, but Elrond remained quiet, red mantle spotless, tunic in perfect rivulets of   
pale silver around his form.  
- Why would a young, sweet lady search death? She is valiant, and powerful. And maybe more alike you anyone I ever met,   
and that includes your sons and daughter.- said Mithrandir, voice stern.- Did you two fight?-  
Elrond chuckled, bitter, horribly.  
- Elrond…-  
- She had a drop of elf blood. She wanted to test it. She wants so badly to go overseas, she is willingly going to her death to   
find her final destiny, Death or Mandos's Halls.- it was hatred, venom in his voice. Never, even in his anger at Isildur had   
Mithrandir heard such cold fury in the wise, the gentle lord of the Last Homely House. The Istari eyed him back, and spoke   
with sad acceptance.  
- You loved her.-  
- I wish.-  
- Didn't you?-  
- I wish to have loved her. I wish to never have met her. I wish to …- his voice dropped, and stopped. His hand grabbed the   
windowsill, and clenched.  
A moan.  
A tear.  
Arien 's hollowed cheeks were pearled.  
Mithrandir rose, suddenly older, tired, grayer. He left the room, with a last look to Elrond, whose back was shaking.  
A ring with a stone of a brilliant, fiery glow, stood out from the pale dying woman in the bed, like a drop of blood and fire in her   
hand.   
Tenderly, Mithrandir closed the door.  
  
Why? Why did you left me?  
Elrond circled the bed, eyes wary, different. It was a tiny spark of insanity there, ready to explode into a fire.  
Didn't you feel ready to be my lady? Were you afraid of other's opinion of us? Did you grow tired of me? What,   
didn't I satisfied you?  
Did you ever love me?  
- Did you EVER love me, Arien?!- Elrond yelled suddenly, yanking the covers away. Arien looked like a corpse, still and   
bluish, only the hand where Narya rested still warm and alive. Elrond could see through her thinning veil of flesh, the spirit   
trembling inside, white and elfish, pure and human, ready to go…  
Elrond grabbed her by the shoulders, and shook her wildly.  
- You will not die! I would not let you escape again! I will not let you flee from me again, Arien! NOW, ANSWER ME!-  
The light was fading.  
Elrond's entire body shook by deep, despairing sobs. Bitter and salty, and painful.  
I had forgotten tears.  
I want to hate you.  
Slowly, so slowly, Elrond, eyes fixed in the body spread in the bed, took off his circlet and let it fall. His mantle came next.  
His tunic pooled at his feet.  
The moon lightened the lines of his body, eternal, pale mithril.  
He crouched over her, dark hair pooling over the pillow.  
You are not going anywhere. You are mine.  
Wherever you go, I'm going with you.  
He twined around the still body, Vilya answering Narya. He embraced and penetrated: he enveloped her own flickering soul in   
his hands, sheltering her with his own burning power, the limits of his soul a shield. He mixed himself with her, forcing a   
response from her dying body, his unforgiving powerful hands eliciting a spark of life from the too tired soul.  
Come to me. Come back to me.  
Power, raw power burning his nerves. The Shadow, invading.  
And pain. Elrond clawed his way on Arien, calling, ordering, and yelling. He grabbed wildly the soul departing, tearing it into   
pieces with his hands, hiding it into him, and banishing the Shadow with his bare hands. And when Narya was insufficient fire,   
when Vilya was not enough strength, his soul shone, wildly, immortal.  
I'll gave my life. But you'll have to tear me apart to take her from me, Shadow.  
Mandos.  
Eru.  
She is mine.  
  
She didn't look at him.  
Elrond had awoke in the side of a alive and awake, but cold eyed Arien.  
My Silmarien.  
She didn't look at him.   
He would have kissed her.  
She turned her head to the window, and stayed still.  
Elrond dressed himself with cold hands, his back to her, and left.  
  
Five days after that, Elrond was standing in the garden's doors, looking the lasts leaves fall into dying parchments in the   
sleeping soil, when he felt footsteps behind him.  
Love, my love, my love…  
- So you're going again.- he said, barely turning. Arien had bowed, and a braid of now not sunset, but pale autumn leaves. And   
her eyes, finding his, was no more silver, but translucent clouds.  
She would fade.  
Maybe she would live here in Rivendell, where the time stops.  
But outside, a flicker of Shadow, and it would erase her like the memory of a song. She would fade like a sunset,   
unique and unrepeatable for all the eternity.  
And I'll remain.  
She is only alive for my will. But even if I can force her to live, I cannot force her to live for me…  
- Yes, my Lord. I thank you deeply with your help, and your kind healing. There's no words to describe my gratitude.- she   
spoke, slowly, formally.  
Their eyes talked, and cried.  
Elrond walked into the gardens, his feet loudless, even over wrinkled dead leaves. The scarlet mantle caressed the ground   
behind him, and he rested a hand in a golden, autumn tree that spread his branched high and naked, opening its arms to the sky   
of black aqua painting over them.  
He looked sad, there, powerful and old eyes watching, needing, and alone. The leaves pooled at his feet, and reflected a pale   
sun, dying in red and black.  
Sunset. Goodbye, my one and last sunset love.   
- You don't need to thank me, Arien.- he said, tiredly.  
- I do.- she said, voice even and formal.- In my sire's sake so, the Steward of Gondor.-  
Silence. A single leave fell, and with a last bow, she whirled around.  
No.  
The halls were dark, the gardens even more so, as the afternoon died, and when the sun disappeared, something died into   
Elrond's heart. It was that surety, that secret hope that somewhere in the Middle Earth the happiness long awaited was   
searching for him. The certainty he would be happy, some day, some way.   
The smile of Elros when he died.  
You were happy. You loved, and you were happy, Elros, and you never, ever, tell me how you did it.  
What is the meaning of all this?  
I'm tired. I want to sail. I want to go away and fade. What is this, what is worths? Is this the desperation they call   
longing for the sea, be tired of the Middle earth? Because I'm tired, jaded.  
I wanted love.  
And now all is gray, even the smile of my children.  
But Elrond was no Elf ready to accept gracefully his waning. The Elf in him has accepted defeat, and bowed, ready to go.   
But the Human was still strong, and Humans doesn't accept defeat.   
He suddenly bolted, a last survival mad grab, and slammed Arien against the door.  
Her eyes widened, but before she could turn in her face to him, he was on her, kissing, claiming what was his. With a shaking   
that was the fall of chains, she answered, Silmarien again, powerful elf lady, defiant human woman.  
Elrond took her against that door, careless of who could walk into them, careless of the world. It was ardent fury, and   
mindless passion, desperation to live cresting like a last tide.   
And then, they were quiet, Arien nested in his arms in an ottoman, as the night fell.   
  
- Why?-  
- …Why?-  
- Why did you leave me?- his voice was deep in the almost darkness, just a fireplace stealing glimpses of their faces. She was   
bare in his arms, nested in the cocoon of his limbs, her hair a luxurious caress enveloping them. Elrond was sitting naked, arms   
and legs open to envelop her, the red mantle still covering his shoulders, warming her bare thigh. His hair fell in straight tendrils   
around his neck, over hers, and they stared to the fire, quietly, silently.  
His eyes were narrowed, dark, open even as he kissed open mouthed her nape. Eyes that were fiery and cold, and   
determinate.   
- I can't go with you, my Lord. You can't go with me. It was better to separate. Or the pain will be too horrible, in the end.-  
A sigh.  
- Do you dare to think it could be worse? Arien, my Silmarien, I'll die with you.-  
- No. You're too needed. You're too important, too pivotal, in this Third age that begins. That, if nothing else, I learned from   
The White Istari.-  
Elrond shook his head.  
- I don't care.- whispers, breathless sighs.  
- Please, my Lord. You are wise: demonstrate it to me.-  
- So, you doesn't love me.-  
A sob in the darkness. Sounds of love, denial, and pain.  
- I'll take you with me to Tol Eressea, Silmarien. I'll beg if I have too. And if they doesn't accept us, we'll die, together.-  
- You can't sail now! My Lord…- her voice trembled.- Please… Lord Círdan was right. I am not worthy. We must not   
ambition the First Born's destiny. We have ours.-  
- Cruel destiny, bitter destiny.- Elrond said, voice soft and painful, kissing her naked shoulder.- And knowing that you will die   
and I would walk Eressea's shores alone, I envy you.-  
- You will forget. You will heal, my Lord.-  
- I will meet you, Arien, somewhere, even beyond Valinor. We'll meet you in Mandos's Halls. Promise it to me. Stay with me,   
till the time comes…-  
- No. I must not envy your life. I must not remain here, where I do not belong…- her voice was sweet, and tender- But I will   
love you always, my lord. And, if the Valar let me, I will wait for you, somewhere…-  
- Arien…-  
  
Would you know my name if I saw you in heaven?…  
Would you feel the same if I saw you in heaven?…  
I must be strong and carry on,..  
  
She sang, and Elrond hide his face in her hair, knowing it was the last time he would find his happiness as male. He was wise,   
and old: she was right. The pale perfect flower he searched for so long has been taken, and breathed, and must die like all the   
fragile, beautiful things the elves cherished and were perishable.   
He should forget, and fade as an Elf into the horizon, carrying with him the precious memory of their happiness. The memory   
in him, would live forever, a hard jewel hurting his heart like Turgon's heart in his chest, his own Silmaril…  
Someday, through the sea and sky, I'll find you again, and you'll run to my arms across Mandos's Halls. I will   
remember your name, only yours, in the mist.  
Silmarien.  
  
Because I know I don't belong here in heaven..  
Would you hold my hand if I saw you in heaven?…  
Would you help me stand if I saw you in heaven?…  
  
- Stay with me. A day, a month, a year. Stay with me, all the days Eru would give to you. Please, Arien. Please…-  
- It would be a long goodbye, my Lord…- she whispered, softly.- You have things to do. And I would answer Mithrandir's   
gentleness with a gift. Have you ever heard of the Blue Istaris?-  
- What?-  
- I was searching for them. They went East, and Saruman made me carry letters for them several times. I can find them   
again, and warn them…-  
- Are they in Mordor? You can't go there again… not even my will would protect you this time…-  
- It worth my life, my Lord. But if I suceed, I'll came back to you, and I will stay here in your safe heaven the rest of my   
days.-  
- … living happily till the end of your days…?-  
- Mr Baggin's?-  
- Yes…- he chuckled, eyes full of tears.- Arien, stay, and you'll live happily here, even after the end of your days, I promise   
you…-.  
  
I'll find my way, through night and day,  
Because I know I just can't stay here in heaven…  
Beyond the doors, there's peace I'm sure.  
And I know there'll be no more tears in heaven….  
  
- No. But will meet again, my Lord. This, I promise.-  
Kisses soft and moist, and tears, and passion melting into slow love. She sang, and Elrond cried, and they stayed together like   
two old stone lovers, ancient beings that had stood under the sun and rain in unaccountable days.   
We'll embrace, again.   
  
Would you know my name if I saw you in heaven?…  
Would you feel the same if I saw you in heaven?…  
I must be strong and carry on,..  
Because I know I don't belong here in heaven…  
  
She sung till dawn. Then, she was gone for the last time, and Elrond watched her fade in Elfaroth, to the East, as the sun   
appeared.  
The pale sunlight fell over him, and he looked up, a statue of ice, the sea roaring in his ears.  
  
Now I understand why Elves wants to go.  
They want to stop the memories. To vanish.  
If this is the gift of Eru to the Elves, is such a cruel gift.   
Where do we found rest?  
Where I'll can find you?  
  
Tears On Heaven © Eric Clapton 


	12. From Middle Earth- To The Sea

Twelve Nights In Rivendel  
by The Fox.  
  
Chapter Twelve  
From Middle Earth  
To The Sea.  
Sunset Of Third Age   
  
And the seasons passed, but someway, it was always winter for the master of Imladris.   
  
The leaves fell, leaving the trees naked to the cold, the branches hard as swords, glistening in the frozen dew: and like   
them, Elrond's heart was hard and hurt, frozen.  
The war came and went, visitors came and went, and he took the sword and the ring once again, but his eyes never flared to   
life again, as he did what it was needed to do.   
And at night, he slept with his eyes open, tired head bare of the Rivendel's circlet, waiting to hear the gallop of Elfaroth in the   
Bruinen, like crystals breaking, breaking the ice around his heart.  
  
* Come back soon, my love, or you'll find my heart dead and frozen, still waiting for you…  
Where are you? Where did you run to die? Why, oh why had to leave me?   
As I rest in this soft pillow, where do you rest your head? On hard rocks? On a sad soil? Are you cold, hungry,   
thirsty, hurt, and I can't do anything?   
I would embrace you in my arms to protect you from everything. I have enough power, enough strength, and what it   
matters?   
Nothing.  
And I'm so cold, my love, waiting for you…  
But you ran away, and you took all of me with you, leaving for them only an empty shell…*  
  
It was in the brilliant days after Sauron's fall, when the Lord of Imladris walked the golden paths of Lorien, where the   
leaves fell at his feet and the trees were covered with yellow flowers, where all the beauty was tainted with sadness and   
bright laments of what have been.   
It was the long goodbye of the elves, and he felt ready to go, that sadness permeating his very soul, as the brilliant silver sun of   
shone into the wet soil, turning it into a silver mirror, lightening his features. The wind has become cold around him, forever,   
and he let it play with his robes and hair at his whim, no longer his master.   
The cold wind was wiping every trace of the Fair Race so quickly, remaining from a lost era. He looked the ring still in his   
hand, blue and beautiful. His eyes where cold, and misty.  
- Elrond?-  
- Lady Galadriel.- he bowed, old grace of elves in his movements, too old in fact, as Lady Galadriel saluted too with a grace   
far too ancient. They were old and lost ones, two ancient memories suddenly, bowing at each other with grace forgotten with   
Gondolin and Beleriand. A sigh and a whisper of old magic around two of the ring bearers. Their smiles where sad, and tired.  
They longed for the ocean.  
They longed for the long awaited, rest.  
- What do you search in the woods, Elrond? Aren't you ready to go?- she asked slowly, a finger resting in one of the trees that   
had grew under her millennial hand. She smiled, beauty and sadness veiling her face in the goodbye to Caras Galadon, where   
she had loved and been loved for a entire life.  
It was the day of the parting, and Círdan was waiting for them in Mithlond with the Last Ship. They must be going, and as he   
had said goodbye to Rivendel, and goodbye to his daughter and sons, whom would be walking into the human's path, he was   
ready to say goodbye to a last hope.  
- She wouldn't come, isn't it?- he whispered, a sigh in his voice, the pain of an old man in his features.- I need to go. I want to   
go, and forget. But if I am not able to, even there, it will be hell, do you know, even in Eressea's shores.-  
- The Valar promised us rest and happiness there, Elrond.- Galadriel slowly took his hand, and lead him between the trees,   
where the water called them. Elrond closed his eyes, remembering the call of the Bruinen in silver mornings, his whisper.-   
They promised us to back home, to all the First Born.-  
- But I am not one of you, Lady. No matter how much I try, I am not.- he sighed, voice somber.  
  
- Are you asking me for her destiny, Lord of Imladris?-  
- No.- his voice was soft, but deep.- I ask for my own, Lady of Lorien. I need to know…-  
Galadriel smiled mysteriously, and filled a silver jar with the clear water of the waterfall, to then let it cascade into a stone pool,   
the water splashing in rivulets.  
Elrond looked at her, wonderingly. Since the destruction of the One Ring, the Three where powerless, a beauty without of use,   
as themselves, the Fair race were. But Galadriel took his hand, and let it in the brim of the once called Her Mirror, where your   
desire and destiny can be shown, true and clear.  
And he looked. A tired-looking, middle aged man, with impossible sad eyes looked back, lines around his mouth, under his   
eyes, betraying his true age.  
*My love, are you dust?  
Arien, my dear sunset, did you end your sparkling marvel far from me?*  
A tear fell into the surface, slow, sad. Rivulets of silver marred the surface, and Elrond closed eyes where silver was   
trembling too.  
- My answer is not here, Galadriel.- he said, voice thickened. But she smiled her famous smile, and pointed again into the   
Mirror.  
- Look again, Elrond, my son. Look again, and you'll find…-  
He looked again, and a red splendor met his eyes. The Heart of Turgon, brilliant red, hanging from his neck in a golden chain,   
was shining…  
*Is she alive…?*  
Slowly, with hand trembling a bit, Elrond lowered the red jewel into the water, where it touched it and shone red light on his   
face.  
*Warm…  
Her voice singing to me…  
… what is she saying…?*  
  
When the cold of winter comes  
Starless night will cover day  
In the veiling of the sun  
We will walk in bitter rain.  
But in dreams  
I still hear your name  
And in dreams  
We will meet again.  
  
Closing his eyes, Elrond felt a wave of life, passion, love, bathing him. Then, he felt a slow call, a caress in his cheek, a kiss.  
A goodbye.  
A plea…  
  
Cast you eyes to the ocean  
Cast your soul to the sea  
When the night seems endless  
Please remember me…  
  
*No, please, no,* he begged.* Please, no, no…*  
¨I must go. You must go. We'll meet again, didn't I promise it?¨  
*Arien, Silmarien, no, my love…  
Come…  
Come back to me, back again…*  
  
He watched her die, alone in the hard, horrendous land of Mordor, forgotten in a tiny heap in a battlefield, Elfaroth   
dead by her side. He watched her fall in last battle, trolls and orcs filling her vision, as she closed her eyes in the gray dirt and   
ashes, Culmoth useless in her hand.  
He saw her look up into the sky, and smile as clean blue wind caressed her face.  
¨Love…  
… blue wind…  
… I'll be waiting…¨  
  
*No, my love, don't leave me…!*  
  
In the dark I hear a call  
Calling me there  
I will go there and back again.  
  
Galadriel set a uncertain hand in the shaking back of the last Lord of Imladris, who cried over the mirror.  
  
Cast your eyes to the ocean.  
Cast your soul to the sea  
When the dark night seems endless  
Please remember me…  
  
*Yes, I will sail, my beloved. All the tears of the world would nest over my chest, but no matter where your body   
sleeps her last dream, you'll be buried in my heart, my loving arms enveloping you, and you'll exist as long as my   
memory does…  
How long as my heart lives, you'll live.   
You have been my only and one twilight love. How could you not…?*  
  
It was all too soon when Elrond stood, his face still, in the bridge of the Last Ship, saying goodbye in the mist to a all   
too painful, too gray Middle Earth. He has bid farewell to Arwen, who had cried in his chest, and they had embraced for the   
last time, forever and ever, and his heart bled again, seeing brilliant tears cover the cheeks of the Undomiel.  
*You'll see him die. You'll feel as I feel, my little one, and you'll bled as I do, and I would not be there to help   
you.  
We must not love mortals, and that's our curse.  
My dear one, you'll suffer as I do, and I'll pray to Elbereth for you, but is no way to avoid it.  
Is the price we pay for the love only them can give us. And I'm glad to have loved, even of bled like this.  
You'll have found happiness. May it be longer that it was mine, but nonetheless, is better than have faced all   
the ages of this world alone, my child.  
Still today my lips taste like hers. I was made complete for the fires of love, and I learnt how deeply I am able   
to feel, where and what is made for my heart.   
And still today, my love, I give you everything I am.*  
  
The mist had thickened as they traveled, golden and ethereal. Elrond closed his eyes, feeling the mist touch his lips, as   
she had done oh so briefly in the Rivendel's bright nights under the clear sky. He had left his circlet and his sword to his sons,   
and only his red mantle remained of what he has been. The Lord of Rivendel it was no more: he was the Peredhil, traveling   
with the elves, into oblivion…  
- Elrond?- Mithrandir, the old friend who knew so much.  
- Yes?-  
- You look so sad, my friend…-  
- I am not sad, old friend. I was… but I am sad no more than I am happy. I just want to arrive soon into the promised shore.-   
he sighed.- And into the promised rest…-  
- Elrond…- Mithrandir smiled, and put a hand into his shoulder. Turgon's heart, the one jewel he had kept, shone briefly in the   
golden mist.- She is with you, you know.-  
With that, the magician drifted away, a smile and that unforgettable twinkle in his eyes. But Elrond, smiling back, was unable   
to hide the impossibly deep pain in his voice, as he fisted the cold, soft red gem in his healer's hand.   
- No, Mithrandir.- he whispered, closing her eyes, the ghost of a kiss there again.- I am with her…-  
The mist enveloped him thick and light, and in the gold were a sunset hiding, just beyond reach, a call and a whisper: her voice.  
He closed his eyes, and felt, opening his arms at the wet sparkles of the sea, the wind strong in his robes, his hair flowing   
freely, feeling her scent…  
  
…Because I am kissing you…  
*…I remember how it felt, fresh peach on my skin, tender embrace as our hair mixed in the dying of the light, and how   
you smiled when I called you Silmarien, my jewel, my last star…  
And the time vanishes, and you'll wait for me forever, cause I'm kissing you…*  
  
The mist cleared and vanished, and he remembered suddenly his whole life, his entire memories. From the laughing   
child days by the Sirion: the darker years when he was imprisoned with Elros, a servant: Maglor's unforgettable voice, and   
then the War of Wrath and those brilliant years in Lindon at Gil Galad's right. Then the long years at the feet of Mount Doom,   
and his loneliness, in magical Rivendel, the wait…  
… and she had come, long orange- blond hair following her like the veil of a red star, laughing and smart, her eyes like pale   
blue sky, and she had left with a kiss and a memory of passion and life…  
… so I am here, waiting and praying what I know I'll never get. And breaking my heart…  
  
*I want to rest, forever…  
I don't want to walk Eressea's shores without you…  
… I should have stayed and died alone in Rivendel, watching the spring that once welcomed you pass by my window,   
dying with every sunset…  
And maybe I could have met you in the other side.  
I should have stayed, with my poor little Arwen.  
I should have kissed you one last time.  
Because we're sunset, light fading from view, hiding beyond the horizon, red and black.*  
  
He looked the blue sky over Eressea for a the first time, a vision of beauty and eternity through his blurred eyes, light   
till his eyes dared to go, too brilliant, too brilliant…  
He extended a hand to the light, feeling its warmness offering itself to him enveloping him with the welcoming arms of a   
mother, soothing his pain. It was like sunset colored hair blowing in the wind, free and clean, and powerfully going through his   
body, and filling his heart, swelling it until the point of pain.  
His tears flowed freely, and he closed his eyes to the too brilliant light, Turgon's heart sparkling in his chest, not red anymore,   
but translucent.  
  
*I will walk through the barrier, any barrier Mandos dares to cross me. And I'll extend my hand, and I will touch   
yours, somewhere, sometimes.  
And I'll be kissing you…  
Her voice…  
…Is she singing again…? *  
And suddenly he heard her singing, not far, her voice soft and loving.  
Singing…  
  
… Please remember me.  
  
*Mithrandir was right.  
She is with me.  
Come with me into the twilight, my love, my Silmarien.  
I will love you forever, a ghost in Mandos's.  
I have carried your memory with me into Eressea as you wished, love. I have carried your memory, the one part of   
you that could sail, and now I'm so tired.   
I'm ready to vanish, love…*  
  
And since the same moment he set foot in the promised shore Elrond, who once had been the master of Imladris, closed his   
eyes at the light and the eternal flame of his life started to vanish.   
  
*Let Irmo give me the last message of love you weren't able to, my love, my messenger.*  
  
But in dreams  
I can still hear your name   
And in dreams  
We will meet again.  
  
In The Dreams © Howard Shore.  
Dante's prayer © Loreena Mckermit 


	13. Epilogue: To the Promised Shore- The Mem...

An Elrond Romance   
by The Fox.  
  
  
  
  
EPILOGUE  
From The Promised Shore.  
The Memory Of Kissing You.  
Irmo's Lorien.  
  
He has been laid in the beautiful Lorien to rest, and he was there under impossible beautiful trees, watching the sky that was   
golden over Valinor change his color into the rainbow. the colors reflected in the silver willows of Lorien's gardens, and the   
breath of countless jasmines invited anybody to rest and forget nightmares, pane and suffering. He was nested in a soft   
mattress, his worn-out body leaning lightly, abandoned, his long black hair sprawled as he looked up, up. The red mantle   
covered his shoulders, and he faded into thin air, soft whispers of the wind giving her last caresses to lullaby him into the   
elves's final rest.  
His noble features were pale, but kissed by the sun. His hands, long ago so powerful, were softly nested in his lap, the long   
fingers still carrying Vilya as a token of Middle Earth.  
  
Pride can stand a thousand trials,  
The strong will never fall.  
But watching stars without you, my soul cries.  
Heaving heart, it's full of pain.  
Oh, oh, the aching.  
cause I'm kissing you. oh.  
I'm kissing you, oh.  
  
I should have died in Rivendel, at your side.  
But I had to carry your heart here with me, love. Didn't you want me to come? Now watch Eressea, the shores that   
called you so much. Here we are, together…  
  
All the leaves fell over him, all the petals, for a wind that still loved him as master. The trees whispered a song no one had   
heard but in dreams, in Lorien's gardens, a song that cleaned the soul, elevates the spirits. The soft breeze bathed him, and he   
closed his eyes, alone in Irmo's forest, finally resting his hurt, broken heart, where even Este could do nothing for him.  
  
Touch me deep, pure and true.  
Give to me forever.  
cause I'm kissing you, oh.  
I'm kissing you.  
  
Mithrandir was there, close by, his eyes sad but still alive, his voice soft as he bid goodbye his old friend, closing silver   
eyes with soft fingertips.  
Then a whisper, and kiss, and Turgon's heart in his hand fell into the leaves and petals streamed over his dying bed, free at   
last. His spirit, floating, powerful, wise spirit of eternal life had flowed to Mandos halls, where he had been waited for too long.  
Mithrandir smiled, and chuckled, to the last joke he played to the stern master of Imladris.  
  
  
Where are you now?  
Where are you now?  
cause I'm kissing you.  
I'm kissing you, oh.  
  
… A long sunset colored hair, a laugh, and a kiss, and breeze scented with sun and flowers, and soft black cloth like   
sky at night over Rivendel…  
  
You took too long, beloved.  
  
You took too long, beloved.  
  
My Silmarien…? You… this is not a cruel dream of Irmo…?  
  
My Arien…? You… this is not a cruel dream of Irmo…?  
  
No. You are with me, finally…  
  
No. You are with me, finally…  
  
Kisses, longer than breaths. Tears that were dried by lips, sunset mixing with the light, long caresses painful in its   
intensity, and closed eyed- love…  
  
Kisses, longer than breaths. Tears that were dried by lips, sunset mixing with the light, long caresses painful in its   
intensity, and closed eyed- love…  
  
But… how?  
  
But… how?  
  
Always the curious, my wise love.  
  
Always the curious, my wise love.  
  
I am waiting for you in Mandos' Halls.  
  
I am waiting for you in the Gift of Men's doors.  
  
You are not half elf, nor half-human. I am not, either.  
  
You are not half elf, nor half-human. I am not, either.  
  
We are elves.  
We are human.  
And we are finally free.  
I've delivered my last message. Now I'm free, my love…  
  
We are elves.  
We are human.  
And we are finally free.  
I've delivered my last message. Now I'm free, my love…  
  
Silmarien…  
  
Arien…  
  
Yours, my Elrond…  
  
Yours, my Elrond…  
  
Kisses stronger, and alive, as they danced together under the trees of Mandos, joining beyond memories, the long red   
mantle floating in the wind as lips found lips and hands intertwined fingers. The Red Heart and the Zephyr Ring   
shone for a last time, and faded, to be the ghost of the memory of eternal, unfading love…  
  
… and they faded into the Gift of Men, beyond the wall of legend, hand in hand, where it was more than memories.   
  
And they stood embraced together forever in Mandos's, locked in a kiss, a mist surrounding them from earth to   
Elbereth's stars like a glistening rain of gems.  
Loving, forever…  
  
When Dior born, it was said he would never find happiness in this land.  
But in Mandos's Hall, his entangled soul would finally turn   
His Elf side to Mandos's judgement, his Human side into the Men's destiny.  
And it was said that true love between Peredhils   
Would no find happiness in the Middle Earth.  
They were wrongly called " half elves", but they had a entire elven soul  
And a entire Human soul. They could choose how to live.  
They could choose how to die.  
But they could not choose where to go in the afterlife.  
But as Earendil and Elwing did,  
After their death, the elven souls would dance   
Into fading, forever in Mandos Halls, eternally in love  
And the human souls would fade into the Men's Gift.  
Together in love.  
Always, together.  
Mithrandir never told Elrond, even if all Maia knew.  
He had discover the truth, by himself.  
----------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Fox May 31 2002.  
We-el, Mr. Tolkien must be kicking in his tomb about this, but i wanted a sad ending and a happy ending together. Oops.  
About the Galadriel/Celeborn "owing" in the chapter 9, it was because after Arwen's letter, they sent Arien back to Rivendel,   
even if she and Elrond had parted not-quite-well the last time, giving them the chance to make things up: so Celeborn wrote "   
you owe me" ( a favour) and Galadriel wrote " I dare you" ( to conquer Arien) in the fake message. Clear now?  
Hope you enjoyed my too long, too drooled-over, too poetic romance! Hugs, the Fox! 


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